Hope
by tavingtonsbeauty
Summary: She was a girl of eleven when she came to the fortress of Masyaf castle. Altair knew she was importance and when the Templars go hunting for her, he changes her name, marries her to his eldest son, and keeps her secrets safe. Now she is Amal bin La'Ahad and will learn the life of an assassin under Altair's guidance, but also knows she has power that is yet to be shown. Not Slash.
1. I am Hope

Hope – Chapter 1 – I am Hope

_1247_

_Majida, My dearest daughter, _

_I am called Hope and the bringer of good news, but I fear these tidings are less than joyous. Your father is traveling quickly to Masyaf castle to join your brother and I as we attend Altair. Your grandfather has sent word that he has retaken the Order after the death of Abbas, his longtime rival. Your father is due to arrive any day now. I know your grandfather, now in his right mind, would be eager to see you once more. _

_Be safe dear daughter. I hope to rejoin you soon. I know it has not been easy being married while still full of life. I was happy to hear in your last letter of your joyous news. I am sure with news of a grandchild, both Altair and Darim will join me. It saddened me to hear about your father-in-law's death. I hope the family is well. _

_I must join your grandfather now. Be well and be safe daughter. Insha'allah (God willing) we will be with you soon! _

_Amal bint Altair bin La'Ahad_

ZzZ

He called me Hope.

So strange. I was just a girl one moment and the next I was a sought after prize. I had no understanding as to why and he would not tell me, at least not yet. The Mentor always keeps his own council.

I came to Masyaf as a young girl of eleven one raining day with a woman named Maria. She had told me that I could be free with the Assassins of the great castle. Though I was free to walk around Acre Citadel, there were always guards watching me.

My parents had been murdered when I was young. I watched men kill them. They all had crosses on their tabards and I hid. Later when I finally came out from my hiding spot a man was there. He watched me go to my parents, whom he had prepared for burial. He paid for them to be buried at the church nearby.

He then took me to Acre and raised me.

Once free of oppression, I found myself in another form. Though it was for my own safety from the same "Templars" who had murdered my family, I was to forget my name and I became someone new.

I was married to a young man of the assassins. The Mentor told me the young man was his son. He was marrying me to keep me safe and away from danger. Seemed an odd thing to do, but with his name also gave me protection from the other assassins of Masyaf castle.

Now as a wife of an assassin, the Mentor deemed I am to be trained as well saying my mind was far too active to be tied to embroidery and other such tasks. Maria, his wife, agreed and I have begun my training. I am their hope they tell me, the hope for all the assassins and the world. How that is possible I cannot even guess.

They call me Hope.

My name is Amal bint Altair bin La'Ahad.


	2. Within the Walls of Acre Citadel

Hope – Chapter 2 – Within the Walls of Acre Citadel

Her name is Miriam.

She was eleven years old and was beginning to bloom into womanhood. Her small breasts had grown larger and her body had grown taller. Her face was lovely, but she kept it hidden behind a veil as her adopted father had instructed.

Her family had been killed by Templars, a sect of the Crusaders who were after power and glory or so she had been told.

Now she was like a prisoner in her adopted father's home. He would not let her go out after dark. He would not let her look out the windows. It felt like prison.

This day she was walking about the garden when a strange woman caught her eye. She walked to her and cocked her head. "Who are you?"

The woman froze and turned back. "Maria." She said with an accent that was nothing like what the girl had heard before.

"I'm Miriam."

"What are you doing here?"

"The only part of the citadel I am not followed."

"You are the lord's daughter?"

"Of sorts. He took me in when my parents were murdered. The Templars are bad men. Thankfully my father rescued me."

Maria looked at the girl. Did she not know all the men here were Templars? How had the lord kept that secret from her…unless he had made sure she never left the citadel and controlled who she spoke to and when.

What a horrible life.

What made this girl of interest that he would keep her like a treasure?

Maria looked at her. "Would you like to be free?"

The girl looked up. Though she wore a veil that covered much of her face, Maria could see the hope in her eyes. "You mean it? I can go outside the walls?"

"I can take you to see my husband and we can travel there together."

"I am not supposed to leave."

"Since when is following your heart a bad thing?"

"You did once too." Miriam remarked.

"Yes."

The girl took a breath and nodded. "We must hurry. Father will come up for tea within the hour."

Maria nodded. She loaded the cart she had and then nodded to the girl to get into one of the wine barrels.

The girl made a face. "You can't be serious."

"I will let you out as soon as we are clear of the guards."

Miriam looked upwards and then climbed in. She was small enough she could do it, but it was still a tight squeeze. Sighing she relaxed and she felt the wagon move.

"Old mother, where are you off to?" A guard asked.

"I am going to the harbor." Maria said in a ragged voice.

"With what?"

"Wine from my husband. I just delivered casks to your lord."

"I see."

"Good day then."

"Good day." The guard said.

They made it to the harbor. Miriam felt the cask she was in moved to a boat. The soft rocking was comforting. She almost went to sleep. It was nearly three hours later when Maria pulled off the top. "Come out now." She said.

"Thank you." The girl said rising and looking about. It was a small merchant ship. "Where are we going?" She asked looking back at the lights from torches dotting the sky behind them at Acre.

"Masyaf, Syria."

The girl blinked, but she was excited.

The boat ride took three days and then it took another four on horseback before the came to the mountains of Syria. Masyaf could be seen towering over the valleys below. She felt suddenly small and she looked to Maria who smiled.

So began the adventure of a lifetime for Miriam Bashir.


	3. Masyaf

Hope – Chapter 3 – Masyaf

Miriam looked up at the great castle that towered over the village of Masyaf.

"Impressive, is it not?" Maria asked her as she joined the girl at the stables.

"Very. I heard stories about this place. The great fortress of the Assassins."

"Come, let us go meet the mentor."

Miriam nodded and followed Maria through the village. At the castle Maria walked passed the guards, but they moved to block the young girl.

"It is all right, she is with me." Maria said.

"Yes, but she wears a Templar sigil, Lady Maria." One said.

"I am not a Templar, they killed my family!" The girl said defensively.

"Where are you from, girl?" another said.

"Perhaps it is a trap, Lady Maria." The third said.

"She was a prisoner. Come, I bring her to Altair." Maria said holding her ground. She well knew not long ago she was regarded in this fashion as well.

They nodded and one moved to follow them. Perhaps they thought this girl in her bulky over garments was a threat. She was only armed with a knife, but she made no move to draw it as she walked behind Maria to the great fortress.

Once within Maria took her to the library and nodded to the girl to follow her up the stairs and to the master's study. She knocked on the door, a formality, and waited for Altair to acknowledge her. "Come." Came Altair's baritone voice.

Maria opened the door and entered pressing the girl before her. The girl was small for her age and she walked with her eyes down to the desk as Altair rose.

"Who is this, Maria?"

"Miriam Bashir." Maria said. She smiled. "She was being held by the Templars in Acre."

"No, they saved me from them. Templars murdered my family." The girl said. She looked up for the first time. Altair was amazed at how green her eyes were and he blinked. There was no lie there. The girl truly believed that.

He came around the desk and looked at the veiled girl. He lifted the sigil. "Then what is this, my dear."

"My second father gave it to me. He told me it would be for my protection."

"For his ownership." Maria said.

Altair nodded and looked up at his wife. "You said you think she was held captive. Why do you say that?"

"She never left the citadel and she has worn a veil. She is too young to wear one according to the laws of Islam."

Again Altair nodded. He lifted a hand and lowered the veil. She stood ramrod straight looking up at him. She was beautiful and young. Younger than his youngest son.

"Why were you brought to Acre?"

"My parents were killed by Templars and the man found me after I came out of hiding. He told me I was special and I needed to be taken care of." She looked about. "I seem to have traded one prison for another, however. At least the people here are nicer. The people in Acre to not speak to me."

Altair shook his head. "Nay, my dear. You are free to do as you please, but I do offer you my protection." He looked at Maria. "You did well to bring her here. She has a great purpose and yet she is so young." He smiled. "Would you stay with us, Miriam Bashir?"

She looked up at him. "I have never known such kindness. Even with your guards being suspicious of me, they were polite."

Altair took her hand in his. "Come let us find you a room, shall we, and then find some food. My sons will be hungry from training. You can eat with them."

"You have sons?" She asked startled. "You look young."

He smiled at her as she walked with him. "I am older than I appear, child."

He took her to a guest room in the living quarters of this own family. Though his sons had gone to be with the boys their age in the dormitories below, the rooms were comfortable and he looked back at her. "This will be your room." He smiled. "It once belonged to my younger son, Sef."

"Thank you, master…" She looked up at him.

"My title is mentor, child, but to you, you may call me mentor or Altair." He smiled. "I will have the boys find you for your meal."

"Thank you, Altair."

ZzZ

An hour later she was found by Sef, a lanky young teenager who had his father's charm and his mother's bright eyes. He walked with her to the common meal area. His elder brother was already there. They were in novice dress and the girl asked them many questions about the area and Masyaf itself. They were delighted to speak to her, a girl their own age. It was after dark when Maria came down to find the three teenagers talking about where she had grown up. She listened a moment to the laughter of her sons and the soft voice of the girl as she told them the stories.

She then shooed her sons back to their lessons while she took the girl back to her rooms.

The young girl did not stay there long, however. She found a more comfortable dress and then moved about the passageways exploring the new home. The wind made sounds that made her teeth go on edge, but she had a freedom here.

A guard spotted her as she look to going along the battlement. He only smiled at her and asked how her evening was. Startled, she realized Altair had made good on his promise. She was not a prisoner here. She was free to explore.

It was after midnight when she returned to her rooms after watching the moon rise over the mountains. She had always been forced to go to her room and stay away from the windows under her adopted father's directive. Here she was free to watch and the only sounds were wolves in the hills and the snap of fires in the braziers on the wall.

She well knew the guards were watching her, but she returned to her room exhausted and as she opened the door she nearly walked into Altair. He looked down at her and cocked his head. "You are about late, child."

"I wanted to see the moon." She said.

He looked at her window and back to her. "I see."

She yawned and he smiled. "You must be tired. I will speak to you in the morning. Sleep well, Miriam."

"You as well Mentor."

He nodded and walked from the room.

She looked about and then settled into bed for the night.


	4. The Chalice of Hope

Hope – Chapter 4 – The Chalice of Hope

The rider came in as the autumn wind began to howl through the passes around the great fortress of Masyaf. The mountains made the cold seasons come early and hang on longer. The cold whistling wind rushed past the rider as he came to the fortress and into the gates. He came to the training circle where Altair was watching two novices train together. He leapt from his mount before the mount was fully checked. A novice came and took the reins of the snorting mount who was tossing his head in agitation.

Altair turned and regarded the messenger who was out of breath. "Forgive me Mentor. The Templars are on the move." He said looking up at the taller master assassin.

Altair took the sealed note he held and opened it. He read it and then looked up startled. "A Chalice?!" He gasped. "There are others?" He well remembered Adha, his first love and The Chalice sought after due to its power. It was not an object and not a cup, but rather flesh and blood in a human. The Chalice was known to either be a holy artifact, or the descendant and heir of Jesus Christ. Whomever had the Chalice could unite all factions under them, granting them victory over all, and allowing them to rule the holy land. Altair was not concerned with that, but the power was dangerous and such artifacts should be kept secret.

Thinking he well knew there had to be other decedents, but perhaps most remained unknown due to the fact being flesh and blood they were mortal and just as human as the rest of humanity. Many had to live and die without ever knowing who and what they were.

He looked toward the garden. Miriam! The pieces began to fall. She had been held as all, but a prisoner and been so young. Templars had killed her family she had said, but perhaps it was others and she were mistaken. He pondered that. Would the Templars remove a girl's parents just to have supreme control over a child? They would if the child was their key to power. Power was the single most thing driving the Templars and their need to have domination.

For three months the young girl had lived under his protection. His sons Sef and Darim had spent much of their time when not training with her. Miriam had a charm to her that was hard to describe and again Altair realized that this gravitation towards her was just another property of her being a Chalice.

He went to his study and lifted the Apple from its box where he kept it hidden. He lifted it and gazed at it. It showed him a great many things about Miriam. How her parents were killed. That she was of the Light. Most of all, she was someone who could bring good or evil to the world, though it was clear she had no idea she had this power.

Putting the Apple away he went to go find his wife. Maria was doing embroidery on a shirt for Sef as she sat before a fire. The boys were in the next room playing a game with Miriam. She was winning and there was laughter from them all as she rolled the dice.

"Maria." Altair said going to his wife, his voice low.

She looked up at him. "Yes, my love."

"I have discovered something." He looked to where the three were playing. "Miriam is a dangerous gift to us. We need to keep her safe and bury the truth about her."

"What? Why?"

Altair said nothing. He took a breath. "We need to marry her to one of our sons."

Maria looked up at him startled. "They are sixteen and fourteen, hardly men. They do not have the ability to care for a wife."

"They do with our support, Maria."

"She is eleven." Maria said. "She is a child."

"Can you think of a better way to keep her safe than to give her my name?"

Maria sighed. "You must change the rest of her name as well." She rose to her feet. "Is this really the path we must take?"

Altair sighed and shook his head. "I do not see any other way. She needs protection and as my daughter-in-law she is kin and I will make sure she is guarded with my body and life." He looked at his sons his face becoming affectionate for a moment. "They will as well."

"We should let her chose. It is her love match."

He lifted his hand. "Did you even know what love was at eleven, Maria?" He asked. He took a breath. "No we shall choose. For now, I will give her, her name."

Altair walked to the doorway. The girl looked up at the shadow that fell across her and the boys. Darim was on his side propped on his elbow while the other two were sitting. Sef and Darim smiled. "Father." They both said together.

"Hello. I was wondering if I may borrow Miriam for a time." Altair said.

"Yes, please." Sef said looking at the girl with a grin. "She is winning all my coin."

"It is not my fault you are such an easy person to read." Miriam countered her green eyes laughing.

Darim laughed and Sef jumped on him. After a playful scuffle, Altair pulled them apart. "Now, now sons. There is a lady present."

The pair dusted themselves off and looked sheepish as Altair beckoned the girl to follow him. He led her to his study and locked the door behind them. She looked at him curiously. "What is it that you require, Mentor?"

He turned to face her. "First, drop the formality when we are alone, child." He smiled at her. "You are not one of my students at least not yet." He took a breath. "Your life is in danger, child."

She gasped. "From who?"

"The Templars." He said. No point sugar coating it for a girl who had seen her own parents executed before her eyes. He took a breath and then knelt before her. "I can keep you safe, child, but first I must change your name and erase all that you are." He said.

She blinked at him. "What do you mean, Altair?"

He walked to a drawer. He lifted up the robes of a novice. "Nothing is true, everything is permitted." He said. He gave her the robes and then turned his back. She blinked and then understood. She quickly removed her own clothing and dressed in the clothing he had given her. There was extra material in the chest for her growing bosom, but it was also cut to be more form fitting than his own robes. He looked at her. The hood was down and her long hair was loose about her shoulders. The tunic hung past her thighs and the leggings were soft. The sash wrapped about her midriff. He smiled at her. "You are truly one of us now, child."

He walked behind her and lifted his hands to her hair. He began to braid it with sure steady hands as Maria had taught him. She was surprised by the ease he did so, but said nothing. "Your name is Amal."

"What does it mean?"

"Hope." He said. "Amal." He said. "Repeat it."

"Amal."

"Again."

"But Altair, my name is Miriam…"

"Amal." He gave her hair a sharp tug in reprimand.

"Again." He said.

"Amal." She said. "But why…"

Another tug made her wince. "Again." He said.

"Amal." She said looking at the wall.

"Good. Again."

After two hours of her saying the name over and over again he finally walked before her. "What is your name?"

"Amal." She said looking up at him.

"Who is Miriam?" He smiled at the confusion in her eyes and bent to kiss her brow. "Good." He took the dress and sigil she had been wearing since she had arrived and threw them both into the fire. "I am Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad and I swear to you, Amal, on my life, that I will keep you from harm." He said.

She watched her past burn before her eyes and melt in the hot coals. She turned back to him.

"I further will protect you by marrying you to my son, Darim." He said.

"But he has a girl he is courting. I helped him pick flowers for her this morning."

He smiled and lifted a hand to her cheek. "You are a greater concern. He will learn to forgive me." He smiled and bent to kiss her brow. "Now go fetch yourself some supper and go to bed. Tomorrow will be a new day and you will be part of my kin."

"So soon?"

"There is no other way to keep you fully safe, my dear."

She nodded. She took a breath and walked from the room. "I am Amal." She said. "Amal of Masyaf."


	5. A Wedding of Sorts

Hope – Chapter 5 - A Wedding of Sorts

Amal, as she now was known, by all, stood on the battlements of Masyaf fortress looking down at the valley below. The wind moved her cloak about and she pulled her cowl further down over her face. It still did not bring her comfort.

Autumn was colder here than in Acre. Acre had the ocean breezes and occasionally storms, but Masyaf had howling winds and snows that would come from the skies above. It was too early to stay, but still Amal was feeling a little homesick at that moment.

Below her, she saw Altair and Maria directing the assassins for the wedding that would occur at sundown. She looked up. Soon, a matter of a couple hours, and she would be standing beside Darim and speaking her words to him.

She shook her head. They both had their full lives ahead of them. She wrapped her arms about her petite frame. Darim was charming. He was a little rougher around the edges than Sef, much like his father Altair. However, she had no doubts he would be a good, loyal, and protective husband. Sef was a charming young man and his smile would make angels weep. Part of her was saddened she could not marry him, but she knew the first son should be married first. Sef would have been just as loyal, but he was also her confidant and she liked his gentle nature that let her just speak her mind. Darim had passed it off once as girlish nonsense, but Sef had listened.

She heard footfalls and turned to see the lanky form of Sef coming toward her. She turned back and sighed.

"Greetings sister." He said cheerfully.

"A bit early for that isn't it?" she asked not looking at him. He had been the one who had been trying to charm her. Though they had been very young, he had liked being near her and had become her confidant and friend. And now she was to marry his elder brother.

"Are you angry with father?" He asked coming around to look at her face.

"Angry? No, but I am very confused." She sighed. "I just wish to know my place in the world, Sef."

She looked down to the village. She could see Darim below with the girl he had been charming. Her name was Karima and she was the daughter of Malik one of Altair's most trusted men. He was speaking to her and Sef looked down as well. He propped a leg on the battlement and watched his brother take the girl's hands in his, kiss them, step back, bow, and walk away.

Karima was a pretty girl. Malik, the one armed man of the order had become a teacher since he no longer could be an assassin. He had been bitter toward Altair for some time, but when Altair had saved his life he had come about. Altair had been one of the greatest supporters of Malik's marriage to a young Goth slave girl he had liberated from the Saracens. He had bought her and set her free, but she remained with him and they married and she bore him Karima. Sadly, she had died in childbirth as Altair's mother had, but Malik loved his daughter no less. He sent her to live with his grandmother in the village and hoped she would charm one of the boys of the assassins with her beauty.

Amal sighed. She felt bad for her new husband. He had made a choice in a woman and had been told he had to marry another. However, he made the choice to say goodbye to what he wanted and do his duty to his father. "He is a man of honor." She said watching him come back toward the fortress.

Darim looked up and saw his intended there. He bowed to her before continuing. She waved, but he was already walking back to the gate to make his own preparations for the wedding that was to come.

Sef smiled. He looked even more boyish when he did and he leaned down to kiss her cheek. "My brother will be good to you or I will know why!"

She looked at him. "I would never say anything that would cause a rift between you."

He shook his head. "If he does anything to hurt you it will not be a rift, sister, I will kill him." He said firmly.

She swatted his shoulder. "You do not mean that."

"Yes, I do."

"There you are." A soft baritone voice said as Altair came out of the tower to the left. He smiled at them. "I had wondered where you had gone to child. I see you have not run away from my match. A sign of your mettle I assure you."

"Mentor." Amal bowed to him. Altair shook his head, though she did not see it.

Sef did and the lanky teenage also bowed. Sef shook his head. "Father."

"Amal, child. You are family now, or nearly. I have a name." He stepped forward and cupped her face. She had always had an odd habit of not looking at him when he spoke as though someone of power and rank had made her submissive like a well-trained dog. Since his daughter-in-law had her own mind and spoke it often to his sons as he had been told, he was going to cultivate her spirit. "In fact, if you wish to call me father as well, it would bring me great joy."

Her eyes brightened at those words. She lifted her eyes to his. "I will try to live up to the honor, father."

He bent and kissed her cheek. "You already honor me."

She impulsively hugged the master assassin and he was startled at first, but then wrapped his arms about her and let her feel safe and secure. He looked at Sef who was smiling at them. Altair had always wanted a daughter, but part of him also knew that any man who tried to come close to her would have himself and her two brothers to contend with. He set her back from him after several moments and looked down at her.

She smiled up at him.

"Come, child." He said leading her to her room where Maria was waiting to dress her. The dress was a lovely shade of blue and Maria smiled as the girl put it on. She then put on a veil that covered her face and trailed behind her in the Christian fashion.

Sef knocked on the door as the two women sat speaking. Maria answered the door and Sef smiled. "It is time." He said.

He took Amal's arm. They walked together with Maria behind. Altair was waiting at the courtyard entrance for the girl. He smiled and looked at her. "You are lovely, child."

Sef smiled and went to stand with his brother. Darim looked at him and Sef patted his shoulder.

Altair and Maria walked with the young girl to where the holy man stood waiting. Altair pressed the hand of the girl into that of Darim and Darim held it looking at the young woman. The holy man was A Coptic priest and he watched the children a moment before he started the ceremony.

They spoke their words as they had learned from Maria.

The girl spoke first. "I, Amal bint Tariq take you Darim Ibn-La'Ahad , to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to be bonny and buxom at bed and at board, to love and to cherish, till death us depart, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereunto I plight thee my troth."

Altair looked at his wife. Her Christian upbringing was welcome here since many of the Syrian assassins had taken Christian brides. His own mother had been Christian. It was a nice touch as he looked at those about him. Many had brought their wives and children to the event since most lived in the village below. Maria had brought up the children in her own faith though she had made sure they had learned about the others of the region as well. She refused to foster hatred over a belief system for it was her belief and Altair's that Allah and God were one in the same.

Darim took a breath and spoke. "I take you to be my wife and I espouse you; and I commit to you the fidelity and loyalty of my body and my possessions; and I will keep you in health and sickness and in any condition it please our Lord that you should have, nor for worse or for better will I change towards you until the end." He then took the small band his mother had given him. She wore one as well, though Altair did not since his ring finger had been removed long ago. He did, however, have a small silver chain that been his mother's around his neck. He then lifted the beautiful ring he had been given by his father. He placed the ring on the right thumb of the bride with the words "In the name of the Father"; on the index finger with the words "And of the Son"; and then on the middle finger where it remains "And of the Holy Spirit. Amen." He smiled as he looked up at Amal. "With this ring I thee wed, this gold and silver I thee give, with my body I thee worship, and with this dowry I thee endow." He said as he slipped the small band onto her left ring finger. He lifted the hand on impulse to his lips and kissed her cool fingers.

The priest placed their right hands together. "Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder. Amal and Darim have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a Ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce therefore that they be Man and Wife together, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen"

The assassins clapped as the priest smiled and nodded to Darim. "You may kiss your bride."

Darim smiled and pulled the young girl to him. He lifted the veil and put it back on her head revealing her beautiful young face. She smiled up at him nervously and he bent and kissed her soft mouth. He pulled back and leaned his head against hers looking at her.

Sef was patting him on the back and the two looked about as the assassins came forward to greet them. Altair managed to get them to two chairs near the banquet area where those in attendance could come and greet the pair. Gifts were placed to the side.

The feast was full of many foods and the bride and groom were greeted and congratulated by all there. Altair and Maria were as well.

The party was in full swing still when Amal started to drop off. Altair nodded to Maria to claim her new daughter-in-law while he rounded up Darim.

Maria led the way to where Amal had made her living quarters. "Do you know what is to happen?"

"The marriage has to be consummated."

"Yes, but do you know what that entails?"

The girl paused and shook her head.

Maria sighed. "It will not be pleasant the first time, but it does get better." She looked at the girl. "Darim is young and will finish quickly."

The girl's confusion made Maria shake her head. "Darim will enter your body and take your maidenhead." She sighed and helped the girl into her sleeping chemise. "You will bleed a little. Do not judge the act on the first time. It is always painful for a woman, but it never is again." She smiled at her daughter-in-law and handed her a cup of wine. "This will help relax you."

ZzZ

Altair walked with his son through the vacant halls. The sounds of revelers outside could still be heard. Altair took a breath, not sure really where to begin.

"Have you ever penetrated a woman?" Altair asked.

Darim paused and looked up at his father. His father's blunt question had caught him by surprise. "No father."

Altair nodded. "It is best to do so quickly, without hesitation, and find your mark straight and true."

Darim shook his head. "How does lovemaking pertain to a lesson in battle, father?"

Altair chuckled. "To win a woman's heart is a battle my son. To consummate a marriage is only a part of the battle." He sighed. "It will hurt her the first time, my son, and she will bleed, but do not let that discourage you. All women have this happen. It is their purity we take."

"I do not wish to hurt her."

"In this case, it is required my son." He paused at the door. "With skill and care she will learn to enjoy it as will you."

The door opened and Maria smiled. "She is ready." She smiled and nodded to her son.

Altair shut the door behind his son as the young man walked into the room. Maria looked up at her husband who smiled and kissed her. "Come Maria, thinking of young love makes me want you." He said.

She laughed and allowed him to pull her to their own quarters.

Darim stood still a moment looking at her. The girl was sitting in her chemise on the bed. She set down the cup she had been drinking from and looked at him as he stepped forward. Darim watched her, somewhat self-consciously as he undressed. It was warm in the room and yet he felt chilled.

He crawled under the covers after blowing out the candles in the room. He looked at her as she looked at him nervously. He then sighed. "Neither one of us really has any idea what we are doing." He said.

She smiled at him. "I know what must be done, but…"

"As do I." He watched her move, catlike to him. She leaned up. His olive skin was almost bronze in the light from the dying fire. She pulled at his under clothing gently as she kissed him softly, and unsure. Darim allowed the small girl to pull at his clothing and soon he was naked under the covers.

His kisses became more urgent as her small hands touched his warm skin on his chest. He pulled her own chemise over her head, breaking the kiss to pull it off and drop it behind him off the bed. Amal liked his soft kisses and his hands on her. He rubbed her body and his hands moved to her small breasts. He cupped them, caressing them with his fingers and she sighed in pleasure.

Her reactions drove him on and he rolled her under him. He held himself over her and looked down at her, brown eyes looking into green. He hesitated a moment and she shifted her legs to cradle hips. He looked down at her and she felt his excitement against her.

She smiled up at him and kissed him softly in encouragement and she readied for the invasion of her person. He sighed and pressed himself forward and buried himself to the hilt. He had felt the resistance and felt her tight sheath. He took a breath t steady himself. It felt amazing, more so than the other novices had told him. He looked down at his wife. She was in tears, but was trying to hide it, by keeping her head turned from him.

"Amal?" He asked softly.

"It is fine. It is supposed to hurt. "She said after a moment.

"But you are weeping." He said softly. The concern in his voice made her turn to look at him. He kept them joined, but he caressed her face softly with his hand as he supported himself on his elbows near her head. "I am so sorry." He said trying to move.

Her legs moved and pressed to the backs of his thighs holding him still. "It will pass." She said. "It already does not sting anymore."

He kissed her cheeks where the tears had settled and then kissed her mouth.

His gentle caresses were helping her relax and he could feel her body becoming accustomed to him. He moved then. The intense feeling he had was nearly overwhelming and he sucked in his breath and shuddered.

She caressed his back as he moved trying to concentrate on something. She heard him groan and felt something inside her. She sighed as his body weight dropped onto her. He was panting, his eyes closed, and was quivering slightly.

He lifted his head after a few moments and smiled at her. He lifted himself from her. His manhood came from her and he sighed, regretting leaving her. He kissed her and then pulled her into his arms to hold her. "I am sorry I hurt you."

"We are married now, Darim. It was only a bit of a pain. Like being stabbed by a needle under your nail." She said.

He smiled. "Come then, rest, Habibti." He said gently.

She snuggled against his chest and relaxed. He listened to her breath and then when that became even he too drifted to sleep.


	6. A New Hope

Hope – Chapter 6 – A New Hope

Darim Ibn-La'Ahad shifted in the bed and connected with something with his hand. It was warm and pliable. He felt the mattress beneath him as well. He had not had such a soft bed since he had been a young child. The pallets in the dormitory were stuffed with straw and took getting used to. This bed lulled him and he felt at peace.

It was early in the morning and he blinked. He lifted his head and saw he was not alone in the bed. There was a slim backed girl with him. He gasped. Was he dreaming again? He reached out his hand. No, she was real. The blankets were down about her hips. She was shivering a little and he reached out. Her skin was cold. He blinked again fighting the cobwebs in his mind. He had not remembered going to see the courtesans in the town below the fortress.

There had been a party, for him and…

He remembered.

This was Amal. His wife, Amal. He reached for her and pulled her closer and shifted the covers over them. She woke and rolled onto her back looking at him. She looked at him too tired to speak and not fully awake. She looked so young with her hair tousled about her head and not in its normal ponytail she had taken to wearing. He liked the silky feel of it as he brushed away from her face.

He smiled tenderly and pulled her into the warmth of his body and the covers. She almost immediately closed her eyes and sighed before falling asleep again. He pressed a kiss to her nose and fell asleep as well.

ZzZ

Bird calls woke Darim the second time.

His body was wrapped about Amal. She was still, but he realized as he moved she was awake. Wrapped in the cocoon between his chest, arms and legs, which he realized he had a leg hers and an arm about her midriff, she did not seem to wish to move. He sighed as his youthful body began to wake.

He moved and stretched looking at her tender skin of her throat. He then pulled her into a hug. He sighed into her hair. "You let me sleep long, Habibti." He smiled. He had always wished to call a girl that. It was the endearment his father had given his mother. He liked it. He sighed. He was only sixteen and now a married man. He needed to grow up. He was no longer one of the boys, but a man with a wife and a family soon to care for. He looked at his wife. She was very young. Part of him did not like having a girl so young as a wife. She was in many regards still a child. Though only five years apart, there were many things he had yet to learn, and now she was a woman and would grow into a woman's body.

He smiled his hand touched her abdomen. He wondered when a child would come. He had watched several of the master's wives become heavy with children. The women were always beautiful despite their body swelling as the child grew within them. He knew his mother would love a grandchild.

"We are newly married." She said.

"What time is it?"

"I heard the noon bell only a few minutes ago."

He sat bolt upright. "The noon bell?!" He moved to get dressed.

She watched him. "Darim…"

"I am late!"

"Darim!"

"What!" He asked as he paused pulling up his leggings. He looked at her.

"Your father gave you a day to be with me." She said looking at him.

"But my lessons. I would love to be with you, love, but…"

She knew he likely had skipped a few lessons and had his ears boxed for it. She sighed sitting up. The sheet fell from her and his eyes riveted to her breasts with the nipples tightening in the cool air of the room. She stretched her lithe, almost catlike body and then sighed looking about heedless of her nudity.

He came back to her in his everyday clothing. His mother had thoughtfully brought his clothing before they had come to bed. He sat beside her and kissed her softly. She leaned into his kiss and his hands went up her willow thin arms to her breasts. He cupped them and caressed them. She broke his kiss to look down at his hands.

"You can..." she smiled a little and her cheeks flushed. "You can enter me again, husband, if you wish." She said taking his hand and pulling him over her. He threw his leg over her narrow hips and planted a hand on either side of her shoulders. He looked down at her and she leaned up to kiss him. Her small hands were shaking a little as she pulled him down. His chest pressed to hers as he kissed her and pulled back resting his head against hers.

He was sorely tempted. Who would not be with a willing female under them? He kissed her breathless and then moved to sit next to her a moment, looking at her his hand resting on the taut flesh of her abdomen.

She shifted and hissed. He suddenly took her shoulders, searching her face for the pain he had seen there. She looked at him startled. "What?"

"You are in pain, Amal." He said softly. "Where?"

He nuzzled her face and looked at her.

"It is nothing."

"Tell me." He said insistently.

"My…pelvis." She said. She was colored again.

He threw back the sheet. She gave a startled cry and then tried to squirm away from him as he looked at her where no one had seen since she had been in swaddling clothes. He looked up at her and then went to where there was a kettle over the stove. The barely warm coals kept the water inside warm, but not hot.

He poured some of the warm liquid into a basin and then pressed a cloth into it. He then wrung it out and walked back to her. She realized his intention and she clapped her thighs together. "You wouldn't dare." She gasped.

"Come now, you are in pain. This will help you, Habibti."

She stared at him and when he did not back down she finally relented. He gently pressed it to her smarting flesh. She gasped at first and then it soothed the dull ache. He sighed. "I am sorry for causing you pain." He said. He was well aware of the stain on the white sheets near her.

She reached for the covers to cover herself and looked at her teenage husband who watched her every move. She sighed. "What are we going to do?"

"I must go find Master Malik."

"But…"

"Soon, Habibti. My studies and then I will return to you."

She smiled up at him and nodded. This was what he was. An assassin. The son of an assassin and the mentor himself. He moved off the bed and she watched him. He finished dressing and moved toward the door. "Darim." She said sitting up.

He turned back to her. "Yes?"

"I love you." She said. She was still blushing. She held the sheet to her breasts as she leaned on her side.

He smiled. She was trying so hard to be a good wife. "I love you, too, Habibti." He said as he opened the door and walked out. He closed it behind him and leaned against it a moment. How easy it would be to return to her arms. He shook his head and walked toward the training yards.

ZzZ

Darim walking outside surprised everyone including his brother and father. It was Sef who saw him first and Altair followed his younger son's gaze. Father and son looked at each other and then walked to where Darim was coming towards them.

"Forgive my tardiness, father." Darim said bowing to Altair.

Altair folded his arms. "Where is your wife?"

"In bed."

"And you are not with her…"

"I had training. We had an exam today and…"

Sef laughed and shook his head. His elder brother was occasionally too driven to be like their father.

Altair shook his head and smiled. "You are in your wedding honeymoon, my son."

"I will return to her after my exam."

"Is Amal all right with you being here?" Sef asked.

"She understood."

Altair shook his head. "Very well, join your class." He said stepping out of the way.

Sef watched his brother go to his classmates and looked to his father. "He left her alone?"

Altair chuckled. "He is my son. Perhaps she needs rest."

Sef's mouth opened in shock and then clapped shut as he blushed at his father's words before he moved away his lessons over for the day.

ZzZ

Sef found his sister-in-law eating under a great Turkish oak that had lived in Masyaf for untold years. She had some cheese and dried fruit with bread. She was looking out over the town.

"Hello, sister."

"Sef!" She smiled. She held a book in her lap.

He bent and kissed her cheek. "Are you well?"

"Yes." She said. She offered him some of the food and he took it gladly. He sat beside her. "How do you find my brother?"

"He is caring, charming, and gentle." She said. "Perhaps you should learn some of his charm, brother."

"Perhaps, but I am charming enough." He wiggled his eyebrows at her playfully. He chuckled. "Not sure where he got those properties. Father is a master assassin and mother is an ex-Templar."

She playfully smacked his arm as she laughed too. "That is terrible."

"Yes, but true." He said and both laughed again.

ZzZ

It was spring and Darim had been a good and faithful husband. The cold months always were hard on Amal and he often found her weeping because her family had been taken from her on Christmas day a holiday her mother had celebrated and she got small presents until Epiphany and candy on St. Nicholas Day.

Darim was not used to the wails of women or their tears, but had been there to hold her. He had sought the advice of some of his elder friends as to how to please his wife. She had laid there and allowed him to have her until then and Darim wanted her to enjoy it otherwise it was akin to rape.

One friend told him many things he had learned from courtesans in Acre. His own wife loved them and when Darim had tried his startled wife had been shocked and then begging for more. Darim and Amal spent many nights of passion together, but at times they would talk. Darim had an amazing mind and liked to learn. Amal told him stories and would show him patterns in the stars. Altair had taken to speaking with her as well while his son was in training.

Winter changed to spring. The girl had hated being cooped up in the fortress, but after she had slipped while coming down from the battlements, Altair had forbidden her from going up there while the snows and icy remained. She had been injured, a cut on her hand and a large bruise on her back, but thankfully two guard assassins had come when she had hit her head and brought her to the infirmary. Her head bled most of all along the side, but the healer made sure all was well. Darim came to her when he had heard from Sef who had been sent to find him. He had held her tenderly and almost smothered her with kisses and gentle caresses to sooth her.

The girl had knowledge she should not have at her age, but she thought it was normal. Altair allowed her to continue to believe that as he watched her draw star maps and plant a small herb garden of her own.

Three days after Christmas the pair had had a terrible row about him not liking her being alone when she wondered the halls. His protective nature had made her cross and she was cross already from having a novice forget to bring her food she had called for. She had left the room only to pass out cold in the hallway. Sef had caught her to him and then brought her back to her room. Darim was still fuming, but it was ridden by concern when he realized his wife had fainted not been forced back Sef to reason with him. Altair had come since the healer was below in the village helping deliver a child.

When she came to she was almost combative, but Altair had made the boys hold her arms while he made her drink so juice citrus they had on hand. She had struggled and some came from her lips, but when her body realized it needed it, she drank it eagerly. After a few moments she went limp and they laid her back.

Darim had asked his father how he knew what to do and Altair commented the girl had not eaten all day and Darim needed to watch her. Their little bird would often skip meals if she got busy with tasks and when the body had enough it would stop working. Fruit juice contained something that would help the body he had noticed. He had seen it in Maria as well that she would perk up after drinking juice after a day of eating sparsely.

They let her sleep until the next morning when Altair woke to her gasp as she woke. He had slept in a chair at her side. Darim had slept beside her and Sef in a chair by the fire. She had been touched by their concern. Altair kept it to himself that such attacks happened far more commonly to women who were with child since the baby would steal from her body what it needed. He had smiled wondering if they would have a child born to them soon. She was not showing other signs, yet, but perhaps it was early and she was young. However, Altair was keenly aware that pregnancy changed women and varied from pregnancy to pregnancy. Maria had been vastly different between carrying Darim and Sef.

Darim was often weary from his sparing and she would rub his muscles to relax him when he would come home. At times she had to force him to eat before he fell headlong into bed only to wake and find her doing repairs to his shirts and leggings by candlelight. He would then eat his supper with her and speak with her as she worked. He liked having a woman to come home to. It made life seem to have more meaning.

Comfortable now Amal walked around the gardens of the fortress. Winter had lost her grip and buds were on everything. She had noticed Maria was often watching her carefully and she well knew Altair was as well, he was just more subtle about it. Maria would ask her pointed questions about her health. It made Amal feel strange to have her in-laws so concerned after her, but she did not mind. Altair and Maria were like the mother and father she had wished she remembered she had. She had been five when her parents had been killed and she could now barely remember their faces.

Altair had once asked about them on a cold winter evening and she had been in thought before she burst into tears. Altair had been tolerant and gentle when he asked why she wept. She told him she could not remember her mother's face. Altair well knew that pain. His own father had been put to death when he had been eleven years old and his mother had died giving him life. He hugged her to him as she cried and he wondered if she ever had truly mourned the loss of her family. When she quieted, he told her he was her father now and he would care for her as any father would. She had nodded and kissed his cheek before returning to her husband who had wondered where she had been. At least he had been angry by her tears wanting to know what had happened, but calmed when she told him his father had helped her remember what family was about. All Darim could do was hug her.

Altair was watching two advance students sparing when he looked across at the garden. Amal was seated on a bench watching the life around her. Darim was walking towards her holding a small handful of fresh new flowers he had gathered from around the village. Altair smiled. Like his father, Darim well knew how to win over a woman's heart.

Darim came up to her and gave her the small bouquet. She smiled up at him and he sat down with her and kissed her gently before speaking to her. To many they appeared to be courting young adults not two people who had been married nearly six months.

Amal would soon turn twelve. His son was already seventeen having been born in March. He looked at her his wife well, though she was best friends with Sef, his younger brother. At least Darim had been slightly jealous until together the pair told him they were friends and nothing more. Darim knew his brother would never betray him and neither would Amal.

Spring had come and all was new. Altair watched and smiled as Amal laughed at something and Darim kissed behind her ear playfully causing her to gasp and stand up. She ran from him and he chased after her and eventually playfully brought into a soft bed of clover as he kissed her. He could not resist touching her ribs and she shrieked. He laughed as she struggled, reduced to fits of giggles.

"They seem very much in love, Altair." A voice said.

Altair nodded looking at the man who can come up beside him. Abbas was his age and he regarded the man a moment. "Have you ever thought to find a wife and have children?" Altair asked.

Abbas lifted a sealed letter and shook his head. "I have not found the right woman." He chuckled and turned to leave again. "Perhaps I should have you find me a love match." He said nodding to the two rolling in the grass playfully.

Altair chuckled. "Perhaps old friend."

Abbas left him shaking his head.

After a time when they were both breathless they lay looking up at the sky, hand in hand. She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it and then pointed upward at the clouds.

Altair turned back to the two sparing as he broke the seal on the letter. The love he saw between his son and Amal was as much if not more than the love he had with Maria. It did him well to see that his son was a good husband, lover, and friend to his wife. Challenges were ahead, but already a foundation was there and Darim would never forsake her for another. He had too much honor as his father and grandfather before him.


	7. Training under the Masters

Hope – Chapter 7 - Training under the Masters

Altair was standing by the archery target area. Both Sef and Darim were shooting arrows. Both could hit the target. Some of the other students were having trouble. Their instructor, Karim, was watchful and allowing them to use the lessons he had taught them.

Sef had reached rank five, the disciple rank three days prior. His brother was already a rank six, the mercenary disciple. Both had passed the fourth rank and had been initiated into the assassin's formally. Both wielded hidden blades and both had had their left ring fingers removed.

Amal had attended to both of them. It was a matter of pride not to cry out in pain as the finger was removed by a hot sword blade. The young woman had nearly been ill when she had unwrapped Darim's hand to find the blackened stump and her husband quivering in pain. She had given him wine to ease him and doctored the digit before he kissed her.

She had allowed him to make love to her to forget his pain even though she would have rather talked to him. Talking took too much effort through the pain, but being able to relax and love his wife on the physical level eased him.

She had tended Sef's hand a month later. He was more of a complainer about it and she boxed his ears to make him stop. He then quieted and she attended him gently.

Now, a few months later in early summer, they were well and the stumps healed. It was a commitment for those who wielded the hidden blades and taking on the deadly weapon meant losing a finger. Darim sighed as he aimed his arrow and it flew landing near the bull's eye.

Behind them on a bench was Amal. She was watching in the shade. It was unseasonable warm already in the high mountain town. She watched her husband and his brother trying to outdo each other. Darim came back to her and smiled. She lifted a water skin and he drank from it before giving it back and bending to kiss her soft mouth gently.

She took his hand and he smiled down at her a moment before turning back. Their hands dropped and she watched him go back. She looked and noticed Altair watching them. He smiled and then nodded to his son to continue.

As Sef moved to aim an arrow one sailed by him and hit a perfect bull's-eye. Sef and Darim whirled and noticed Amal standing with a longbow in hand. She grinned at them and Sef ran toward her.

"Sister…" He growled.

She shrieked and moved quickly to try to avoid him.

Altair looked at his daughter-in-law. Her shot had been further from the target and with a bow she should not be able to draw. Darim blinked. "Where did she learn to do that, father?"

"Ask her yourself, my son, she is your wife."

Sef laughed as he caught her. Careful not to hurt her, he plucked her out of her run and held her. She cried out, but was laughing as he tickled her sides. She screamed and fought, but was laughing.

Darim sighed and rolled his eyes as he handed his father his bow before moving. He pulled Sef from his laughing wife who was lying on the earth quivering and laughing. Sef watched as Darim helped her sit up and she coughed.

"Are you alright, my Arousa?" He asked rubbing her back and glaring at his brother who was dusting himself off.

She coughed. "Yes." She said. She was still giggling a little as Darim helped her to her feet. "Why is he upset? Just because a girl can shoot better than him?"

Sef moved toward her again his hands reaching for her. This time with Darim between them she ran and climbed up a wall and perched on a thin ledge looking at them. Altair joined them. "I see we have gained a monkey." He said.

"She is not a monkey. She is going to get it when I can reach her." Sef said noting the hand holds she had found would never work for someone of his size. He chuckled. "Perhaps a bird or a mountain cat."

"She has no wings. What shall we do with the funny little thing?" A new voice said. Malik joined them. The one armed instructor looked up at the girl.

"Tickle her." Sef said.

"No!" Darim hissed. "Come down, Habibti." He said.

"No." She shook her head.

Altair chuckled as she walked catlike along the ledge. He needed to train this girl before she climbed areas of the fortress where she could do herself harm.

"Amal." Darim said. "Come down."

"No." She shook her head.

"Leave her brother; cats do not come when they are called. They take their own time." Sef said chuckling. "She will soon tire of this game and come back to earth."

"Cats also believe they are better than their masters and that is not the case." Darim said.

Altair shook his head. "Any man who thinks himself master of a woman will soon learn this is not the case, my son."

"She promised to obey me." Darim hissed. "I will not have her causing herself harm out of spite."

Altair sighed. "She does not feel safe at the moment." He nodded to them. "Come. Back to your lessons."

The boys went back to the archery blocks and Altair looked up at his daughter-in-law. "It is safe now, child. They will not tickle you anymore today."

"Darim is angry."

"His passion and love for you is overriding his reasoning and judgment." He smiled a little. "He will soon drop his anger when he realizes you are well."

"But his look."

"You are the one being defiant." Altair said. "Who taught you such things? Maria?"

Amal hissed. "Why does everyone assume when I do something reactionary it is from Maria?" She crossed her arms. "Am I not allowed to have my own heart?"

Altair shook his head and looked down. Her quick wit and tongue was something she had recently developed. Altair suspected there was more at play than lessons from his wife, but he kept that to himself. Women were often temperamental when carrying a child and their moods would change faster than an assassin could throw a knife at times. He dearly hoped she was carrying his son's seed within her, but part of him also worried. She was still young and childbirth was always risky even without the complication of a small body. He would make sure she was well looked after and if there were more signs, such as she was not bleeding, he would consult a healer.

He was not going to ask such things himself naturally and he doubted that his son had even kept track of such things. Maria, however, was watching for such things since as a woman she would be privy to such information about her daughter-in-law and with Maria's upfront nature; she would likely even ask the girl outright. Altair knew Maria had been carrying Sef before she did after they had returned to Masyaf from Acre due to watching her habits. Women seemed to forget and even be glad not to have their monthly time, but a man observing them knew what a stop of the flow meant. Either a child was to come or the woman was too old to bleed anymore. Since Maria had not been old, there was only one logical conclusion.

He walked back to his sons and sighed. "What is it, father?" Sef asked.

"Amal is growing-up and learning to stretch her wings." He looked sympathetically at Darim who looked sour. "Do not be angry with her. For years she was oppressed under men's rule. We allow her to grow into her own. She needs the space and patience from her family to do so."

"But she could be harmed father."

"If she falls, she will learn her folly." Altair said. "I have decided to have her trained as one of us."

"A female assassin?" Sef asked.

"It is not forbidden in our laws." Altair said. "She has the skills and one with so much fire should be taught to temper that with reason and thought. How better to do this than as an assassin? Nothing is true, everything is permitted."

Sef nodded. "We can help train her father."

"Yes, in time, my son, but for now, let her find her own way." Altair said.

Darim aimed his bow and the arrow hit next to his wife's. "I do not like the idea of training her as one of us."

"As I recall, you were not overly fond of marrying her at first and now you cannot imagine life without her at your side and in your bed, can you?" Altair said calmly. Always the voice of reason and maturity as well befit the leader of the assassins of Masyaf.

Darim lifted his left hand. "Maiming her body and teaching her skills that men should know."

Sef looked at him. "We maimed our bodies to show our commitment to the order."

"But she is a woman, delicate, fragile. Something to be loved, showered with praise, to bear children, to be there to comfort us when are injured." Darim spread his hands. "Teaching assassin's skills to a woman will make her more of a target to society."

"Would you rather her find them on her own?" Altair asked. "She is already learning skills from observation. It would be better to teach her how to use them and turn her from defiant child to honed weapon."

Darim sighed. "Perhaps you are right."

Altair put his hand on his son's shoulder. "Enough for today. You must go make peace with your bride. Sef I need you to fetch something from the village for me." He looked up and noticed his daughter-in-law had jumped down and was walking into the fortress her arms about herself.

Sef nodded and went to do his father's bidding.

Darim sighed. "Should I not let her temper cool?"

"Perhaps, but maybe you can make it up to her." Altair said.

"I could bring her a sweet and maybe a flower from the garden. She loves them." Darim said hopefully.

"Ah, now you are thinking as a husband." Altair nodded.

Darim nodded.

ZzZ

Darim took an hour to fetch the sweet from the village and a rose. He held them carefully as he walked back to the fortress. The rose was perfect and smelled like she did due to the rose water she sometimes added to her baths. Other times it was herbs to help her skin which had become dry in the winter weather.

He walked to his room and took a breath. He opened the door. He walked in and found his wife inside balling yarn. She was staring straight ahead into the dying fire before her. She was daydreaming. He looked at her enjoying the sheer beauty of the young woman he married.

He coughed a little and moved to her side.

She jumped and looked up at him. "Darim." She said. There was a bite to her voice and he winced.

"Habibti." He said gently. "I am sorry." He told her softly. He came and knelt beside her. He had put his hood back upon entering the room and his thick, short cut, dark hair was visible in a sweaty mop.

All the viscous retorts died on her lips as he knelt, head bent. He reached for her hands. Kissing them, he held them as he bowed his head over them, awaiting for her to speak. For a man to kneel to a woman was to put himself completely at her command. He would listen to any insult and would carry out any burden or task. He was totally at her mercy and trusting her not to abuse the power.

"Darim…" she whispered.

"I brought you gifts. The sweet maker had a new candy. It is like glass and made of hot sugar he rolled out and let harden. It tastes of peppermint." He said lifting the small box of square sugar treats.

She lifted one. It was like looking through glass in a cathedral. The small flecks of green made her smile as she brought it to her lips and tasted it. It was delicious and she sucked on the corner a moment contentedly. He lifted his head. "Bite it."

"Bite it?" She did so and some of the sugar came off and it left small shards of sugar on her lips and in her mouth. She was content.

Darim on an impulse leaned up and kissed her, his tongue licked the small pieces from her lips gently. He pulled back and smiled as he looked at her. They regarded each other a moment as he leaned towards her.

He lifted the rose and she gasped. "It is beautiful!" She said.

He smiled. "Does this mean you are no longer angry with me?" He asked looking away.

She leaned toward him and nuzzled his cheek. "Yes." She said. She then playfully licked his cheek near his eye.

He was startled by this and jumped back looking at her. She had a playful expression on her face. He then moved back and leaned up kissing her. The kiss deepened and his hands went up and tangled in her thick hair. He reached down and released the braid. He worked his fingers through her hair to make it loose.

He then looked up at her. "I love you." He whispered to her.

"I know. I love you too." She said. Her hands moved to his tunic and he shook his head.

"No, not yet, soon." He said. He smiled. "Come help me bathe, wife, or put me in the dungeon where my stink will kill the rats."

She laughed. She pulled him to the bathroom down the hall in the castle. The pool was fed by hot springs in the hills above the fortress and was an ingenious way to maintain hot water. The water flowed out and would continue down the valley using a system that the assassin's before had learned from the Romans and perfected. The cold mountain spring water was also brought in creating a pool of bathing water for the Master assassins and their families.

Maria had been an interesting influence on the fortress. She had demanded bathtub made of metal be made for her in a private room. Altair dismissed it as her Christian nonsense again, but she enjoyed it and had often allowed her daughter-in-law to use it.

Once there she barred the door and gently turned him to face her. She began to undress him and he allowed her to. Her husband was becoming a man and she smiled as she placed his robes to be washed. As she stood from folding, her husband wrapped his arms about her and pressed her against the wall. She could feel his hard body behind her and she smiled as he kissed her neck.

His hands found her narrow hips and he began to undo her own clothing as he held her trapped between him and the steamy room and the cool wall.

She was in her chemise and it clung to her body in the room. He smiled as she pressed back against him. "Darim, you need your bath."

"I need you as well, wife." He commented, but relented and walked to the pool. The pool was designed to hold several individuals and since bathing was not necessarily a private affair. However, the door and lock had been added when women began to live within the walls of the fortress and not just in the village where their husbands could visit them.

He sat on a stone carved bench between where the hot water flowed in and the cool. Amal knelt behind him and began to rub his neck softly. He leaned forward to allow her more access enjoying her small hands working on him. After some time he reached up behind him and pulled her over his head. She was surprised and yelped as she found herself clothed and in the pleasantly hot water. She sighed and her husband held her on his lap as he kissed her.

The soft white wool clung to her body and as she shifted he could see her skin through the wet cloth. Her growing bosom and lithe form made him smile. He tried to pull her back to him, but she refused, at least for now. She began to scrub his back and hair with a soap cake made from natural roots.

Darim sat back with his eyes closed as she leaned up to the side of him. She was on the carved bench as well, kneeling, and leaning upwards. He turned his head and noted her breasts were level with his face. He could not resist leaning toward them and sucking a nipple between his lips, cloth covering and all. She gasped and looked down at him.

"Naughty boy." She admonished, but as he looked up at her, he could tell she was not displeased. After a moment he wanted skin and began to reach down to pull at her chemise from the bottom. She pushed away from him and then startled him by shoving his head down to wash the soap out of his hair. He came up sputtering and looking at her.

She grinned innocently and then leaned back to wet her own hair. He watched her rub the soap into her own scalp and hair and then sighed ducking down again to wash the soap out. She was washing her hair as well as she leaned backwards running her hands through the thick curls.

She felt another hand, a larger hand, reach up and help her. She had not noticed Darim coming close to her again and she sighed lifted her head back and looking at him.

"By all that his holy and sacred you are so beautiful Amal." He whispered.

"Am I?" She asked.

"Yes, and you are mine." He said.

She almost laughed how he had gone from loving husband to protective and possessive male in a matter of moments. He put his hands under her and lifted her from the pool as he walked out. Her body was light to bear and he laid her down on a soft cloth meant to dry.

She looked up at him as he used another to wrap around her hair and try to dry it, though it was like a living thing about her and clung to everything. Once mostly dry he leaned over her and kissed her as he sat her up using the towel to dry her even as he kissed her.

He pulled her to her feet and smiled as he took her hand and they walked back to their room. He was heedless of his nudity and once in their private sanctuary he locked the door. She moved to go get ready for bed, but her husband had other ideas. The room was cool and her body reacted and she shivered a little.

He pressed a kiss to her nose. "I will warm you." He promised as he went to stir the fire and make it come back to life with fresh wood. He turned back to her and found she had followed him. He chuckled as he looked at her warming her hands.

He gently took them and rubbed them before moving up her arms, to her breasts, to her taut belly flesh, to her hips, and then her soft buttocks. Once there he drew her to him and kissed her as they stood together. Darim had grown several inches and had to now stoop to kiss her.

He walked her backwards and pressed her against the small desk in the room. She gasped as he lifted her onto it and then they both lifted her chemise up and over her head. He smiled and entered her as she laid back. The surface was cold and she shivered even as her husband bent over her and moved. She had been startled by his decision to take her here, but Maria had told her, any surface would do if a man needed to copulate with his wife. She had seen assassins against the walls of the fortress and several she had heard in the stables.

Darim leaned forward as he rocked against her, his hips cradled between her own. He held the desk as he bent forward and nuzzled her belly. He wondered when she would start to show signs of his child growing within her.

He liked the idea of becoming a father. The idea of holding her with her swollen belly gave him joy. He had seen the older assassins doing that in the fortress. They would caress the swell and speak to their unborn as though it were a real human. Many of the assassins had children born into the order and they were raised by their parents as well as the Order itself.

Amal held her husband and caressed his back and shoulders as he collapsed on her. She was biting her lip as her own climax had stunned her with how powerful it was and she was sure it had helped bring her husband with her.

He lifted himself from her and then moved and lifted her up in his arms and laid her in the bed. She looked tired and he was willing to join her. She yawned and stretched like a small kitten before her eyes closed and she relaxed. He smiled in amusement and then they both settled to await the call for supper.

ZzZ

Altair shook his head. "Again, Amal. You are not using your size as an advantage."

Amal struck at Sef and he smiled as she locked wooden swords with him. He then pushed knocking her on her rear. She glared up at him.

"Amal. Have you ever danced before?" Altair asked.

"Yes. Several times in Acre." She said. The parties her adopted father threw were always amazing and extravagant.

"Think of this as a dance, but a dance for your life." Altair tossed her the wooden sword again. "Again."

Again she failed, but Altair could see she was learning. Sef, however, had been trained and countered her moves effortlessly. The girl was sweating.

Again she came and instead of the blade he used the butt to tap her lightly on the cheek. "Dead." He said.

Again she went and he disarmed her and held them both to her. "Very dead." He said.

She took a breath and stood back looking at him. Altair smiled. When most novices would let their anger drive them into unwise action, Amal was calculating. He had been right to train her. She had ability. Now it was a matter of training her to use it and use it well. There were no second chances on a mission. Either you succeeded or you failed.

Dressed as a novice the young girl had no weapons other than the training sword. Sef closed with her again and this time she dropped low and swung his legs out from under him. She stood over him her wooden sword to his throat.

He looked up at her and smiled as she panted over him. "Well played sister." He said.

She turned and looked at Altair. He regarded her. "Once is luck. Repeat it." He said.

She reached down and offered Sef a hand. Though he used his own power to rock and sit up, her hand steadied him. He smiled and kissed her cheek, leaning close to her. "He is impressed. Don't let his teacher voice intimidate you."

She nodded. The time she went on the offensive. The two spared for nearly an hour. Both were weary and watching each other like caged mountain cats. The girl paced away from him like one as she watched for an opportunity. Altair watched her where an eagle guided him, she was a cat. She had the grace and the alertness that few assassins had at this point in their training.

Amal charged forward and dodged around tapping her brother-in-law lightly on his off-hand. A real sword have hurt, but not been deadly. She was tired and her limbs were literally shaking as she deflected a blow from Sef as he came at her. She refused to back down. Sef lifted his hands. "Sister, come, you need to rest. You cannot possibly be seeing straight."

She growled and leapt at him. He was surprised by the action and her momentum took him down and she pressed both swords to his neck as she claimed his from his startled hand. He looked up her with a mix of shock and admiration. "Dead." She said.

She rose to her feet and walked out of the practice ring tossing the swords to the side. She made it only a few feet before her hand went to her head. Altair appeared from nowhere as her knees gave out. He lifted her petite form in his arms and held her gently.

He smiled at her. "You fought well." He said and carried her back into the fortress.


	8. Discoveries

Hope – Chapter 8 – Discoveries

Darim was awake before sunrise as he often was. His wife still slept. He smiled affectionately down at her. He shifted to sit up looking up at her. Her hair was about her face as she slept on her side. She had curled into a ball. The castle was often drafty and this time of year it was growing ever cooler.

He moved her hair away from her face. When training she kept it tightly back and out of her eyes so she could see, but when in the privacy of her rooms she wore it loose and long. Her husband liked it long and he also enjoyed combing it out. It was an odd pleasure, but it was mutual since the girl loved her hair being brushed and her young husband loved brushing and braiding it for her. His agile fingers braided her hair faster than she could.

He bent his head down and kissed her cheek. She woke and looked up at him bending over her. "Wake sleepy one." He said as she tried to go back to sleep and roll onto her stomach.

He gently shook her shoulders. "Amal…come. The masters are waiting…"

She mumbled something into her pillow and he shook her again.

"Amal…come…Or we will not have time to eat breakfast before…"

She sat up and shoved him off her and ran to window. She pulled it up and vomited. Surprised Darim followed her and lifted her hair away. She had come to the window ledge so hard she had broken a nail or two against the stones as she wretched over the edge. She then leaned against the stones when her body had no more and was reduced to hacking coughs and spittle.

Darim had left her a moment to fetch water and a damp cloth. As she calmed and panted her rubbed her back tenderly. "Amal… Habibti…what is wrong?"

"My…stomach. It hurts and my back. I have never…" she swallowed and tried to push herself up. He was there to steady her. They walked back to the bed slowly. He pressed a kiss to her clammy brow. It was sweaty and warm.

"Shhhh. Come rest in bed. You are ill. Your head is warm as is your body." He said noting her heat through her chemise even as she shivered. He gently set her on the bed and gave her the small mug of water. "Drink that down and then be easy. I will return to you when I can."

She nodded. "I am sorry…husband…"

He paused as he dressed. "Sorry for what?" He asked coming to her.

"Pushing you…"

He smiled gently. "Hush, Habibti. I am not hurt and it is understandable." He moved to the door as he fastened his bracer on his arm. "I will send you some soup and bread."

She made a groaning sound as her stomach heaved at the mention. "Not yet…please…"

He nodded. "Rest well, my love. I will return to you."

ZzZ

Amal rose around noon. Her stomach was still tight and she ached everywhere. She shook her head and she realized there was something between her legs. She reached between them under her chemise and robe she had put on. She lifted her fingers and looked in horror to see blood.

Sef was lifting his hand to knock on the door to check on his sister-in-law. Being her confidant, Darim knew his brother would be able to see how she was. Amal had been touchy about people being too "smothering" lately and had been enjoying the freedom to be able to train as an assassin.

Her scream made him open and push open the door with his short sword ready. He looked about the room and looked to see Amal on her knees in the center sobbing and looking in horror at her hand. Even from where he stood Sef could see the blood staining her fingers.

Without a word he came to her looking at her fingers as he took a hold of her wrist. Whimpering she looked up at him. "Sef…what…what is happening? I hurt…" she whimpered.

"You are bleeding." He looked at her. He noticed a stain on her chemise as well. He quickly wrapped a blanket about her and lifted her body in his arms. Sef, like his brother Darim, and their father before them, was growing to be a tall powerful man. Amal had grown in their care, but was still a small woman.

He carried her toward the medical wing as fast as he could through the halls. He spotted Ephraim in the hallway. "Ephraim. Can you fetch my brother and tell him it is urgent?"

"Yes." Ephraim nodded. "What is wrong with Amal?" He asked.

Sef looked at him and blinked. "I do not know, but she bleeds."

Efraim nodded and ran to find Darim who was out on the battlements somewhere learning the signals to use in case of an attack. Darim was standing watching when Ephraim ran up to them. The younger novice was out of breath and leaned against the wall.

Farid, the instructor looked at him and stood hands on him waiting for the gain his composure. As the youth straightened the master took a step forward, "Is there some reason you are interrupting my lessons, young one?" He folded his arms.

"Forgive me, master." Ephraim looked to Darim. "Darim, your brother summons you."

"Why?" Darim asked stepping forward. Darim was taller than his father now and had a greater breath to his shoulders. He would soon be eighteen and a man, though he had a wife and had had one for nearly two years.

The boy swallowed. "Your wife, she is being taken to the healer. She is bleeding…." Whatever else the young lad said was lost as Darim moved at a dead run passed him and went toward the healer's wing. His heart was suddenly in his throat. What illness had she contracted? Was this malady something they could cure? She was too young to leave this world.

He continued to run ignoring the protests of others as he moved through the halls narrowly avoiding people and objects.

Sef continued to take her to the wing and laid her on a bed in a semi-private corner. Aziz, the healer came to the young man who was gently holding Amal's hand and whispering to her that it was alright.

"What is the trouble, young man?" Aziz asked.

"Amal. She is bleeding."

"From where?"

Sef moved the blanket and revealed the small blood stain.

The healer looked up. "I see." He looked up at her. "Are you in pain, my dear?"

"Yes. Less than it was." She said through gritted teeth.

He nodded and moved to make her a mixture of herbs. Sef looked up as his brother arrived. Darim took a breath to calm his lungs as he came to his wife's side. He tenderly dropped beside her on the bed. She was currently curled in a ball on her side, eyes closed, holding on to Sef's hand as though it were a lifeline.

"Habibti." He said softly. He sat beside her on the bed and gently caressed her back, kissing her shoulder. "Amal…are you all right?"

She opened her eyes and he noticed they glistened with tears. Her look of pain and naked fear nearly made him weep for her. He tenderly kissed her cheek. "Darim…you are here."

"Of course." He said. He looked up at Sef as his brother lifted the girl's hand to his lips. He was trying to soothe her as well and she rolled back as her husband caressed her. It seemed to ease her even as tears fell down her cheeks and landed on the sheets.

"She bleeds brother." Sef said. His voice was neutral, but it was clear he was worried for Amal as Darim was.

"Where are you injured, sweet Amal?" Darim asked.

Amal's free hand moved over the sheet to her lower abdomen, just above the juncture of her thighs. "It hurts." She whispered.

Darim laid his hand over hers and engulfed her entire midsection with his large hand. The warmth made her breath a little easier. His flexed his fingers and she relaxed further, though it was clear she was still in pain. Darim looked up at his brother in sorrow. He knew what this meant. His wife had been pregnant and was losing the child.

She looked up and saw the look exchanged between the brothers. They both understood. She seemed to as well. "No…No…No!" She sobbed.

"Habibti, hush…" He crooned to her. He kissed her cheek. "We are young. You will make yourself ill." He whispered trying to calm her as the sobs wracked her body.

Sef stood holding her other hand and looked helpless. Neither boy was used to the tears of women. Amal was in such distress that it nearly undid them. Darim closed his eyes feeling his own sorrow at the loss and more importantly, he felt his wife's pain and sadness. He felt helpless and unable to help her.

After a moment Darim rose to his feet and went to Aziz. The healer looked up at him. "Darim, my boy."

"My wife is losing our baby. Can you help her?" He asked. "Is there anything you can do?" Darim asked his voice hollow.

Aziz nodded. "The mixture will make the body hurt more, but for less time. The draft will also stop hemorrhage, but she should remain here for a day or more."

Darim nodded. He returned to his brother and gently wiped a tear from his eye as his brother looked up. "Can you fetch mother and father?" He asked.

Sef nodded and gently freed himself from Amal who was watching them. Sef embraced his brother and then patted his shoulder before leaving. Darim touched his brother's hand in a thank you and turned back to his wife.

Altair and Maria came in the evening. They had been out together seeing a nearby village. Maria had been called to assist with the birth of Master Hakim's latest son. His wife, Hala, was a pretty woman and had given him three sons already. All were to be trained as assassins. The little babe was a girl, strong and healthy and would clearly be the apple of Hakim's eye as he held her close and blessed her as his sons and wife looked on.

Darim had watched his wife suffer through the pain of her miscarriage. He refused to leave her even as he watched his wife's lifeblood flow into a bowl that Aziz had beneath her. He held her close as he sat behind her, holding her close and whispering words of love and reassurance to her. Finally after two hours it was over and she slumped back against her husband, her body limp and sweat fouled. He held her to him as Aziz gave her another draft, this one to help her sleep.

As Maria burst through the door upon hearing the news from Sef, she ran quickly to the girl who had been given a sleeping draft and was snorting softly in her sleep, Darim moved from his place beside her and went toward his father.

Maria looked at the girl. She was pale, but looked at ease.

Darim swung a fist at his father angrily, but Sef grabbed him before he could actually hit their sire. Altair looked at him in confusion. "What has happened, my son?"

"You did this! This is your fault! You taxed her body so much she lost our child!" Darim struggled against his brother's grasp as he yelled at his father.

"Darim, stop!" Sef said. "You will wake her!"

Darim was beyond hearing and struggled. "She is so delicate. You pushed her too far!" Darim cried and then stopped fighting and dropped to his knees his own grief getting the better of him. Sef tried to help him back up, but Darim shoved him back from him in anger and sorrow.

Altair looked at the girl who had woken and was looking about confused. "Darim?" She called softly.

Altair hung his head. "I am sorry, my son." He looked down as his son hissed and struggled to his feet to return to his wife. Altair watched him knowing the curse he uttered was out of grief and not really meant as the insult it appeared. Altair watched Darim pull her into his embrace and whisper to her. Maria was watching also, but Aziz beckoned her and Altair to join him.

Altair looked at Sef. "Make sure your brother doesn't do anything foolish."

Sef nodded.

Aziz lead them to the hall and partly closed the door. Altair watched inside and sighed. "What happened?"

"I gave her some herbs to make sure she fully aborted, to have a child remain within a woman's womb can kill her when it is dead." Aziz said. "It poisons the blood." He sighed. "However, after I did this I managed to send Darim and Sef to fetch me an herb from my stores below. I was able to speak to her. Forcing an abortion was not necessary. She was not pregnant. She could not be."

"How could she not be?" Altair asked. "Darim and her act as young lovers do, the secret smiles and glances…"

"This was the girl's first blood, Altair." Aziz said clearly voicing his disapproval.

"What?" Maria asked. "She had never bled before?"

"No. When I asked her how long she it had been since she had last bled, she told me she never had and asked me why I asked."

Maria looked at her husband. "She was too young to marry. If the priest finds out she had not yet become a woman with her cycles…"

"I know, Maria. The sin is mine, not hers." Altair said. He took a breath. "Let them mourn their lost child."

"You are going to lie to them?" Maria asked.

"At times hiding the truth for the good of those involved allows for closure." He watched his son kissing his wife tenderly. "This has brought them closer."

Maria followed his gaze. "Very well."

Aziz took a breath. "Then it will be never spoke of again by any of us here."

"Agreed." Altair said.

ZzZ

It had been a month since Amal had "lost her child". Physically she had recovered well, but mentally, the scarring was still there. Darim had also been in mourning and together they had become closer together.

They were walking in the garden in the courtyard together speaking together. Darim picked a flower and put it in her hair. She had begun her training again, but Altair insisted that she not be pushed as hard. Darim seemed to accept the compromise.

Altair watched as Darim kissed her cheek and adjusted the flower gently as he smiled. The Mentor smiled. The love between them was as much if not more as Maria and he had. Altair was a little jealous of the girl's acceptance of kisses and holding hands. Maria did not like to be touched in public, except on rare occasions when she leaned up and kissed him.

Altair sat down at his desk in his study regarding the Apple of Eden.

He lifted it and stared at it as it began to show him images.

Amal.

The Chalice.

The Chalice had the power to lay waste to towns, but also had the power to liberate. Light surrounded them and they were powerful healers. The Light was a blessing and a curse.

Altair watched as Amal burned a man to death with just her touch as she screamed in fury, light shining around her. Such power was almost too powerful to fathom. The Apple revealed it was part of a blessing from the ones who came before, the nameless people who had created the Apple from the start. Jesus Christ had been sent as a beacon to judge humanity. Since he had the blood of the old ones, he also had their power and so too did his descendants. Since his heir had been a female, only those of the female line could inherit the power. Often unaware they had such power until a traumatic event called upon them to use it, they were Chalice's whether known or in secret.

A Chalice, the literal cup that held a child in the womb, a woman. It was a hard concept for him to grasp. He knew well about the Christian histories about Jesus Christ and there was never a mention of a wife or child, but then the Templars were powerful and knew well how to guard secrets.

He looked away and the Apple stopped shining. So much he was learning from the artifact.


	9. Miracles

Chapter 9 – Miracles

Darim and his brother had been sent with several other disciple Assassins to go scout around the nearby terrain for Templar movements. It was rumored that they were planning an advance.

It was hot. Summers were often warm in the valleys surrounding the high reaches of the town of Masyaf and the fortress it guarded. The mountains, however, kept the fortress cool in the summer, though it would become warm in the training yards.

Darim and Sef rode together along a narrow path and then up into a pass. They had chosen to go the more dangerous route to see to the passes. The narrow passes were difficult to move an army through, but Templars could move an advance guard through.

One such pass was only five miles from Masyaf town. The brothers walked their mounts looking about the rocks for signs of an ambush. The rocks were bare and a wind whistled through the crags.

Darim's horse startled. The gelding pranced and bucked. Sef controlled his horse, but as he looked back, Darim was thrown. On the ground was a coiled viper. Sef threw a knife killing the snake, but the horse moved away still shaken.

Darim lay on the ground. Sef dismounted and noticed his brother was staring up at him shocked. Sef's gaze fell to a tree stump that had been snapped in a powerful wind. The remains were like a sharpened spike through Darim's lower right abdomen above his hip. Hitting higher would have killed him instantly, but such a wound allowed the barer to suffer for days, sometimes weeks.

"Darim!" Sef cried.

Darim was struggling to breathe. "Tell…tell Amal…tell her I love her…and….I am sorry."

"You will tell her yourself!" Sef hissed.

He looked about. He walked to his horse. With trees about, Sef cut two long poles and stretched a sleeping blanket between them. He tied the ends to his horse and then turned to Darim. He lifted his brother free even as he groaned in pain. He laid him on the makeshift stretcher and then set about treating the wounds as best he could.

He looked up. Darim's mount had gone home as trained. He shook his head as he pressed a blanket to his brother and looked at him. His brother was shaking in the heat and sweat poured down his face as he gritted his teeth in pain.

Sef mounted the horse and then moved at a walk back toward the town.

By the time they reached it, it was near sunset, and Darim was coughing hard. Sef quickly made his way to the fortress. Upon entering he cried out for help as he went to his brother and gently held his head afraid his coughing would break his spine.

"Darim…calm yourself." Sef said.

Several of the assassins had heard him and the all helped lift the young man up and carry him to the hospital wing. Sef held Darim's head as the others carried his body.

Altair came into the room as they laid him on a bed. He took in Sef's blood covered hands, Darim crying out in pain, and the other assassins looking at his son in pity.

"Get Amal!" Altair said.

"But father…" Sef looked. "Where is mother?"

"Now!" Altair said. Maria was in Damascus and would never return in time before he died, unless…

Sef moved to obey him as he ordered the other assassins to leave. Aziz looked at the wound and pressed herbs to it and used clothes to try to stem the blood flow, but the young man was growing weaker. The smell was also overpowering. His bowels had been torn. It would not be long before it would begin to putrefy his blood and Darim would be doomed to a horrible and painful death.

"There is little I can do other than ease his pain." Aziz said. "I can give him milk of the poppy."

Sef returned with Amal after a time. Darim was not coherent. Aziz had drugged him well and his muddled mind was not able to feel the terrible pain his body was in. He tried to speak to his father, but nothing but a string of words came out.

Amal ran to her husband, but Altair caught her and held her a moment. "He is dying, Amal." He said. "You have power. You have done things no one else can." Altair's eyes were desperate and he shook her a little and she looked up at him.

"What do you mean?"

He took a calming breath. She had no idea what he meant. He could read it in her eyes. He let her go with a sigh. She moved away from him and went to her husband. "Darim?"

His eyes opened and he looked up at her. "Amal…" He managed. He reached a hand up to her. "Help…me…" She put his hand to her cheek. "Darim…you can't die…"

He looked at her and smiled. "No pain…" He said. He coughed and blood oozed from his lips. "Let…me…go…love…" It was difficult for him to speak.

"No!"

"Must…."

Amal looked down at the wound and felt sick. She looked back at his dreamy face and shook her head. "It is not your time!" She said. Something in her changed. Altair and Sef both saw it.

She lifted a hand to his sweaty brow and she bent her head. Sef drew closer and realized light was surrounding his brother and it came from her fingers on him. "Father…what is happening?" He asked.

Altair looked at his son and then back clearly also startled. "She is a Chalice…" Was all he could say.

Aziz looked over and the light suddenly rendered him unconscious. Altair blinked as the girl glowed as the Apple did when he looked into it. He watched mutely as Sef stepped forward. Altair grabbed his tunic to prevent him from interfering.

Darim was breathing easier and no longer coughing.

ZzZ

Amal looked down as Darim looked up at her. "What are you doing? Why are you surrounded by light like an angel?"

"I am healing you." Amal's voice said, but the tone was like nothing he had heard her use before.

"How?"

"I am a Chalice. I am Hope." Amal intoned.

Darim looked up at his wife and her eyes were glowing like twin suns. This clearly was not his wife, but something else that was within her. He felt everything being lifted from him and he looked up in wonder at her.

"Who are you? What are you?"

There was no answer. He looked in horror as blood began to run down the girl's face from her nose.

"Amal!" He cried.

The light about her began to fade and Amal looked at him a moment and smiled a little. "You will live…"

ZzZ

The light ebbed and Amal gasped and fell forward unconscious. Altair moved to her and caught her in his arms before she fell off the small pallet that her husband lay on. Sef went and touched her face. Blood oozed from her nose and trickled down her cheek, but she lived. Her chest rose and fell.

He used a cloth to wipe the blood from her nose and cheek. He looked at his father. "What has happened father?"

Darim gasped and sat bolt upright.

He touched his side and looked down at his side where his clothing had been torn and bloody. His skin was whole and unmarked. He looked up at his wife who was limp in his father's arms. "She…she…saved me." He moved and touched her cheek. "Does she live?" He asked fearing she sacrificed herself for him.

Altair nodded. "She lives." He said. He looked at the girl in wonder. "So this was the power the Templars speak of." He said softly, but his sons heard him.

Darim touched her cheek. "How did she do that?"

Sef looked at his brother. "You were dying." He looked down at his sister-in-law. "There was light. Beautiful light. Then she dropped exhausted and you were healed. I have never heard of such power."

"I have." Altair said. He remembered Adha well. His first love. She had been a Chalice. She had been murdered because her power had been so terrifying the Templars could not risk it falling out of their hands. They killed her. He murdered every one of the men who had been part of her murder and the kills brought him no satisfaction other than known she had been avenged. Her death was the symbol of the end of his youth.

The Apple had shown him Amal's power, but not to this extent. It was greater than Altair hoped and feared. She was a sacred artifact that would need to be kept secret.

Darim looked at his father. "What do you mean father? What is she? How does she have powers no one else has?"

"She is a Chalice." Altair said. "The power to unite men by those who possess it." He shook his head. "The power to heal as they said the young carpenter could do." He blinked. "A secret so wonderfully terrifying that wars have been fought to protect the Chalice and try to gain its power." He looked down at Amal. "I swear to you, daughter, that I will protect you from harm. If by my death or life I can keep you safe, so be it."

"And to protect her you gave her a new name and married her to me." Darim said in sudden comprehension. "You knew along of her power?"

"Not to this extent." Altair said. "I did know that if anyone could save you, it was Amal."

Sef nodded and looked at his father and laid his hand on her breast above her heart and pressed his right over his own. "I vow this as well. No harm will come to you. If I must die to protect you and your secrets sister, I will gladly do so."

Darim laid his hand over his brother's. "As your husband, I swear to you, that your life will be protected always by our family, your family. You will always know love and we will protect you to our last breaths."

Altair nodded. "So be it. Heard and witnessed!"

His sons nodded.

Altair then carried the limp form back to her room to recover. He laid her down on the bed and looked at her. "I knew you were special, Amal. You are the Hope of us all." He said softly and kissed her brow.

Darim and Sef joined him to keep a vigil on the young woman. Darim changed into other clothing and sat at his wife's side holding her hand as she slept. She appeared to not even be dreaming and only the rising and falling of her chest was the only clue she still lived.

ZzZ

It had been three days and the girl showed no signs of waking.

Altair had stayed at her side, watching over her while his sons practiced their skills. Sef would stay the night at her side to allow Darim to rest since his brother had been awake watching his wife for any signs of recovery for two straight days. He was starting to show signs in the fact he could not stay upright in practice fights. Sef had sent him to his rooms to rest with the promise if she woke, Sef would fetch him.

Sef felt her hand move and he looked up at her. "Amal?" He asked softly taking her hand.

Her eyes opened and she looked about almost panicked. When she saw Sef there, she sighed. "Where am I?" She asked, her voice hoarse.

"In your rooms." Sef said softly. "Come have some water." He said gently lifted her head and pressing a mug to her lips. She sipped the life giving liquid greedily, but he took it from her. "Not too much, sister." He said gently. "More in a moment."

"How long have I been here?"

"Three days. We have been worried."

The door opened and Altair stepped in. He saw her eyes open and smiled. "Good. You no longer sleep the sleep of the dead, my daughter." He turned back and nodded to a novice to fetch his elder son.

"What happened?" She asked Sef.

"I am not really sure I can explain…"

She looked at him.

"So you remember nothing?"

"I remember telling Darim he was not going to die."

She sat upright. "Oh Darim!"

Sef pressed her back. "He lives…thanks to you."

"What?" She asked.

Altair came to her and sat down on the edge of the bed. "You are full of mystery, dear one." He smiled. He leaned down and kissed her brow. "You saved me eldest son from certain death."

She blinked. "There was light. I felt like I was not in control of my body and then I woke up here." She looked about.

Altair nodded. "A powerful gift."

Darim entered the room and closing the door with his foot, he ran to his wife. Altair smiled as his son pulled her into an embrace and hugged her to him. He was nearly weeping in joy as he held her kissing her face and anywhere he could reach to reassure himself she was well.

Sef tapped his brother's shoulder. "Let her breathe, brother." He smirked.

Darim took a breath. "Oh course." He set her back from him and looked at her, his hands on her upper arms. "Are you well, Habibti?"

She looked up at him her face brightening a little. "I'm hungry."

Sef laughed and patted her back. "That is a start."

Darim hugged her and kissed her brow. "Then I must feed you, my love." He rose to his feet.

Altair lifted his hand as the girl laid back. He lifted the water mug to her lips. "I will watch her for you. Go fetch her some broth and bread, Darim."

"Oranges?" She asked hopefully.

Sef laughed. "Of course sister."

He led his brother to the kitchens to feed their starving young charge.


	10. The Power of the Light

Chapter 10 – The Power of the Light

Darim woke early.

It was a very special day for his wife. It was still dark outside, but he leaned down over her naked body and kissed her shoulder blades. "Habibti…" He said softly. She had fallen asleep on her stomach. He was not sure how that was comfortable, but she looked so content as he looked down at her face.

"Go away." She murmured. "We still have hours…"

"Wake up." He told her shaking her gently. "Father wanted us there early."

"Father is not awake yet."

"Oh I am sure he is." Darim said.

She hissed and threw a pillow at him before she settled back onto her side. He smiled and moved against her. Her back was to him and he smiled. "If you do not get up, I will be forced to make you…"

"You and whose army?" She retorted, eyes not open.

He glared at her in challenge. He reached around her and gently cupped a breast as he kissed her neck. She growled as her body started to betray her. His thumb made her sigh and she looked up at him. "Why are you awake anyway? We were told we should be well rested."

He shook his head and chuckled kissing her mouth. "Just because you have beaten a master in a duel does not make you a full member of the order. There is your ceremony and then your leap of faith."

She shook her head. "I thought I had butterflies about all this."

He smiled. "No."

ZzZ

Amal walked into the small hall where many had gathered to witness her initiation.

The hall was located at the top of the fortress where then the initiate could then step onto the platforms and preform their first leap of faith.

Since she was the first woman to ever gain the honor, many had flocked to the area to watch. She stood proudly and came forward before Altair who stood at the top of the dais. She looked about as she lowered her hood revealing the thick braid. Darim stood nearby as did Sef and Maria.

Altair stepped forward as the girl stood looking up at him. A hush fell on the crowd as he spoke. "Where other men blindly follow the truth, remember..."

Amal took a breath. "Nothing is true."

Altair spoke again. "Where other men are limited by morality or law, remember..."

The girl answered without hesitation. "Everything is permitted."

Altair smiled down at her. "We work in the dark to serve the light. We are Assassins." He nodded to her. "There are three ironies to the Assassin's Creed. The Assassins seek to promote peace, but commit murder. The Assassins seek to open the minds of men, but require obedience to rules. The Assassins seek to reveal the danger of blind faith, yet practice it themselves."

She nodded.

"Repeat the tenets of the Creed, initiate."

"Revere the blood of the innocent. Hide in the midst of the crowds, and do not reveal the brotherhood on pain of death." She said.

He beckoned her to follow him. "As part of your commitment of your solemn oath, we shall have you sacrifice a finger, demonstrating your commitment to these principles."

She lifted her left hand. There was a block. Sef and Darim came forward. The pressed her down and Darim himself held her hand steady over the block, his large hand holding the rest of her hand down and holding the ring finger of her left hand down. He moved it back to the edge of the block so only her one finger was on the block and the rest of her hand was being held by his own. She looked at the stub of his own sacrificed finger and took a breath to steady herself. He leaned close, his body behind her. "It will be soon over." He told her as he felt her shake a little. She took a breath and nodded.

Sef held her other arm and braced her against his legs. Her hand locked on

Altair lifted blade that had been fired red hot and glowing. He nodded to his sons and they gripped her almost to the point of pain. It was a natural reaction to leap away. All initiates were held so by masters or friends. He lifted the blade and the girl closed her eyes. She felt the pain as it cut through her finger and then smelled the hot smell of cooked meat. The hot blade instantly cauterized the wound as well as removing the finger. She had cried out, but not loudly as many did.

Altair was impressed as he looked at her. She had not even struggled. She had remained still in her husband and brother-in-laws' grip. The trust she had for the family made his heartache. She had taken this sacrifice much better than he had ever hoped. As a woman he expected tears, sobs, begging not to do the task, or even running out of the hall. She did none of that.

She opened her eyes and saw that it had been removed above the first joint, nearly to her hand itself. The tiny stub ached and throbbed angrily. Before her was the finger on the block. She took a breath and Darim and Sef eased their grip when they realized she was not going to pass out on them or flee. She had faced the removal better than many.

She moved the stub and winced. Darim saw her looking at it and leaned to her ear. "You did well." He told her.

Altair then offered a hand and brought her to her feet as the other two stood beside her. He removed her darker hood and then placed a lighter one on her shoulders. "Welcome to the order Amal." He said and kissed her cheeks. "Welcome our new sister!"

The cheering that erupted was almost deafening. Darim lifted gaze and salve and bound her hurt finger. Though cauterized, the wound still hurt for days as it healed and many times phantom finger pain remained. She watched him and he smiled at her.

The other assassins all placed their hands on her and welcomed her. Darim smiled and then took her right hand and led her to the platforms that overhung outside. Sef joined them as did Altair and Maria.

Darim smiled at her. "It is easier if you just run out and do it."

She took a breath and nodded.

She ran out on the platform and spread her arms as she leapt into the air. Darim and Sef moved to look down. She rotated twice in the air before landing on her back in the hay below. As she moved out of it, Darim jumped after her. She was surprised by the next body that landed next to her.

Darim smiled and pulled her into his embrace. "I love you." He told her.

"I know. I love you too, Darim." She said.

He smiled and lifted her up onto his shoulders and walked with her sitting there. Sef joined them after also doing a leap of faith and they walked back toward the fortress entrance speaking together and laughing.

Above them, Altair smiled. He put his arm around Maria and kissed her cheek softly.

"They are growing up." She said watching them.

"Yes, but all children must." Altair said.

ZzZ

It was evening and Darim and Amal had retired.

The girl was starting to feel her hand again and winced as she moved it.

Her husband gently had her sit at the small desk while he unbound it to look at it. All assassins were given rudimentary healing skills to help them should they be caught in a unfriendly town injured or be alone. The basic skills had saved many.

As he unwrapped it the girl looked down at the burned flesh. She had treated her husband and Sef, but to look at her own mutilated hand was different. She sighed and tried not to cry at the pain.

He looked up at her and gently touched her cheek with the back of his own four fingered hand. "You do not need to be strong for me, Habibti." He said softly. "I know it hurts."

She shook her head refusing to weep even as tears made it hard for her to see as he lifted her hand to inspect the flesh and bone. He then as gently as he could paint it with a salve that had a numbing agent in it. However, it burned when first applied and he had to hold her wrist to keep her from pulling back. She made no outcry, but the tears finally fell down her cheeks.

"My poor little wife." He said gently kissing her palm before he wrapped it up again.

He then rose. He could tell by how she was relaxing that the numbing was starting to take effect. He tenderly caressed her cheeks before leaning forward to kiss her. "I love you." He told her. "Come let us to bed."

She nodded and allowed him to lead her there by her good hand. Darim dropped a knee beside her and kissed her as he pressed her back a hand in her hair. She had used a similar trick to make him forget out his pain. He kissed her as he bent over her. His hands went to her hair, freeing it of its tie, and gently loosening the braid with his fingers. She looked up at him as his fingers became lost in her thick locks and he pressed another kiss to her mouth, this time more urgent and deeper.

Slowly he removed her clothing and his own. He made love to her gently, making sure it was about her own pleasure rather than his own this night. She looked up at him as he hovered above her, caressing her thighs, and opening her legs for him. His hands moved between them and he smiled as she began to react.

Words were no longer required as the sounds became the mix of grunts, moans, and whimpers that were lover's vocabulary. Darim watched as he pleased her and she astounded him with her passionate surrender. He then shifted over her and entered her as he looked down in her eyes to see the love they had for each other reflected there.

After, as she slept, Darim remained awake for a time, holding her close. Her bandaged hand rested on his bare chest and her head was on his arm. She was softly breathing against him. She had been so brave.

He sighed and pressed a kiss to her brow before letting sleep claim him.

ZzZ

It was a month later and the days were becoming shorter even as the icy winds were beginning to howl through the mountain passes. It was still the first autumn, but winter was like the ravaging wolves. Always hungry and always coming.

The warning horn blew and reverberated on the hills just after dawn.

Darim and Amal woke.

Looking at each other they dressed quickly and the girl pulled her hair into a thick tail that fell behind her nearly to her hips. Darim had often coiled the braid about her hair to keep it out of her way, but there was no time. She pulled up her cowl letting her thick ponytail rest in the back of the hood.

Together they ran out of their room.

Altair was standing in the courtyard giving orders.

"What is going on?" Darim asked.

"Templars are here trying to take the castle. They want the Chalice and my head. I intend to give them neither." Altair said.

Darim looked at his wife who stood in her modified assassin's robes. As one of the assassins fighting she would not be thought to be her true self. The Templars would expect to have her be locked deep in the keep for safe keeping, not killing them with a sword and arrow. He realized that was one of the reasons that his father had trained her. It was not to have another capable body, it was to blend her into the sea of brothers in the Brotherhood. In her robes unless one looked carefully, it was hard to tell she was a woman. Though her breasts were larger and she had grown taller over the past year, the clothing covered that well. Her face was fair, but then Darim was bias. The more chameleon the girl was, the harder it was for the Templars to find her.

Altair nodded to them. "Darim, you and your brother I need to help defend the villagers, Amal, I need you on the battlements, your bow skills will be of use."

Darim nodded and pressed a kiss to his wife's mouth. He was happy his father was not placing her on the front lines. At twelve and a half and with a young woman's body she would a target. Templars were supposed to be pious, but Darim knew that rape and murder of women was all too common in the wake of an invading army.

He ran to go join his brother. Amal nodded to her father-in-law and ran up the battlements of the fortress to shoot at targets. She had developed the skill of holding her arrows in her hand so she could fire more quickly. Moving targets were difficult, but she had mastered shooting from a battlement or from horseback. Altair commented he had heard about such skills from the Mongols to the East, but it took a woman's grace and balance to master it for the assassins. She was an asset even if she were not the Chalice.

The fighting was intense. The brothers stood back to back fighting off the Templars. A man ran toward Sef with his sword raised as he as he parried a blow. The man stopped and dropped to his knees as Sef whirled after slashing the man's stomach. He saw the arrow protruding from the slit where his eyes were in the helm as he fell backwards. Sef looked back at his sister-in-law above him standing with an arrow drawn looking for her next target. Altair had had her training longer hours under Master Karim. The projectile master had been impressed by her skills.

She stood now on the parapet picking off Templars within the area. With villagers still on the run, the fortress could not close the gates and so the battle spilled into the great courtyard. Altair stood looking down at the chaos. He looked up at Amal and realized there was danger. He looked down at Sef and Darim below him.

"Darim, Sef!" He called. The young men killed their targets with their hidden blades before looking up. Altair pointed. Amal was shooting arrows about, but she was running low and there were Templars moving to take her out, though she could not see them.

Darim looked up. "Amal!" He cried.

Sef followed him as the pair fought. Darim realized that there were many between them, but he had to try to reach her.

Amal looked peripherally as she saw a sword coming at her. She jumped backwards as the sword missed and hit stone with a clang. She aimed her arrow and hit the Templar at point blank range. She saw another one coming and she ran into the gatehouse.

A Templar followed her. The young man stood looking for her and she stood looking at him. "They are sending children now?" She asked.

"I could say the same Assassin."

She moved to push passed him, but he caught her and they grappled. He pressed her backwards to the wall and pressed his hands to her chest to restrain her. He looked at his hands and gasped as he felt the swollen flesh there. Amal did the only thing she could think of and boxed his ear, hard!

The boy yelped and jumped back as she crouched looking at him. He held his head and looked at her. "You're…you're….a…" He looked at her. He blinked. "Does your master know?"

"Of course he does." She said. "He trained me."

He blinked. "What do we do now…I cannot kill a woman."

"I cannot kill an unarmed man." She said nodding to his weapon. He followed her drifted and dropped his sword and kicked it away.

"What is your name?"

"Judah." He said.

She nodded and stood. "I can convince the Mentor to send you home to your family when this is…"

The door crashed open to reveal a great Templar Knight. Amal gasped and jumped backwards. The young Templar took a step forward. "She is a woman. We cannot hard her, she…" He did not finish his words as the older knight's blade pressed into his belly.

"Weak filth." The man hissed and spat at the boy as he dropped dead at Amal's feet. She cried out and moved to make for the stairway, but the man came forward and wrapped great hand around her thin neck and lifted her against the wall. Her cowl fell back and her thick ponytail fell down beside her. She gasped feeling the blood fill her face as she tried to get away.

With her feet no longer touching the ground she struggled, but could not breathe. "Yes…yes fight me…" He smiled as her hands wrapped around his arm in a desperate attempt to dislodge the hand. He pressed his face close. "When I strangle the life out of you, I am going to fuck your pretty little corpse before I leave you to the crows, whore."

She looked down at the boy and then at the man looking at her. She hissed and reached out her hands to his face, questing his eyes to scratch him. Instead of scratching, her fingers instantly blackened his flesh. Surprised the Templar howled in pain and jumped backwards, his hands going to his eyes. She had burned his eyes and the flesh about them.

She dropped to her knees coughing. She looked up at him. "I am not a whore." She growled rising to her feet. She looked at the innocent boy whose only crime was following orders in a pool of blood. The man reached out.

"Where are you, you bitch!"

She jumped out of his grasp and moved behind him. "This is for my family." She hissed as she kicked his leg sending him to his knee. "This is for the boy you killed." She said and as he reached for her she grabbed his arm, her fingers burning his flesh once more. "Did you know his name?" She asked silkily. He howled in pain as she broke his sword arm. "It was Judah." She then shifted and kicked his blade away. It moved and hit the wall with a clang. "And this is for me." She said going behind him and wrapping his fingers on his face.

The scream made Darim and Sef look up and back at each other. "Go!" Sef said holding the stairway. The scream had been a human, but it was hard to tell if it was male or female, but it made their body shiver at the sound.

The girl leaned close to the man's ear. "You'll never fuck a girl again." She hissed and snapped his head violently to the side breaking his neck. He fell with a grunt at her feet.

She took a breath and moved to the door. She touched the latch and opened the door just as Darim did. Darim pulled, but yelped as the door handle burned him. The door opened to reveal a form. He raised his sword and knife and she blocked them.

He stared at her. "Amal?" He asked as he realized she was glowing with an odd light about her. She held two daggers and was holding him a bay as he looked at her. He gasped and dropped the weapons he held and hissed in pain as they became too hot to hold.

She looked at him. "Darim." She said.

The swirling light lessened and dissipated as she took a breath. She looked at him. "Are we winning?" she asked.

"Yes. They are retreating." He said looking down and in the village where the captains were calling for a retreat.

She nodded and leaned on her sword a moment. Darim laid his hand on her shoulder and then looked in the gate house. There was a murdered boy and a Templar who had had his eyes put out and his face severely burned. He looked closer. The marks were finger marks and small ones at that.

He looked at his wife in the doorway. "What happened he asked?"

"The boy was innocent. He was murdered by his own Templar brother. His name was Judah." She said. She went to him and gently closed his forever opened eyes with a look of horror on them. "Rest in peace." She said softly.

He nodded to the other man. "And him?"

"He tried to rape me after he killed Judah." She shook her head and walked from the room. Darim followed her. She seemed detached from the actions. He had seen it before in assassins with their first kill. Their minds tried to adjust to taking a life. It was not uncommon to be in a daze for several hours to a day or more to allow the mind to process that this was what the assassin's life entailed.

He came to her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." She said.

He was not so sure, but she was responsive. He wrapped his arms about her gently and held her. She yielded to his embrace as he looked down at the assassins in the courtyard cheering as the soundly beat the Templars back. The Templars had not brought a large army, not expecting the assassins to be ready for them and in superior numbers. A fool's errand it would seem.

Amal sighed, but looked up as a Templar came up to the parapet from below. He had been overlooked and was trying hard to escape. However, he saw the two standing together. Perhaps he could avenge his brothers by removing this pair at least before his demise.

Amal hissed and shoved her husband to the side and leapt into the air drawing her hidden blade. The force her leap knocked the man back despite her small size. Her blade buried itself in his neck and she pulled it free before the man could react. Blood spattered her arm as she knelt over the man's body.

Darim looked at the man almost in pity as Amal's closed his eyes. She rose to her feet and Darim looked at her. Sef came up to them and watched as the girl turned and walked down the stairs into the courtyard oblivious to the dead around her.

Altair watched his sons following her and he lifted a hand. Sef lifted an arm to his brother's chest stopping him from going further. At a sharp look from his brother, Darim nodded.

Altair followed her to the library and hearing him she whirled to face him. By her expression it was clear she had been expecting someone else, likely her husband or Sef. It changed to acceptance the moment she saw who it was. She took a breath. "Mentor."

"It is just us, Amal." He said spreading his hands.

"Father…" She said and sighed looking down at the floor expecting a reprimand.

He looked at her. "Walk with me, daughter."

She sighed and nodded walking with him to the back garden that was surrounded by the keep and the deep canyons on three sides. He looked up at the trees that were dropping their leaves. "This time of year is beautiful is it not?"

"Autumn is, but why did you bring me out here?" She asked. She could hear the wind in the canyons.

"We won a great victory today."

"Yes, father."

"We could not have won without you." He turned to her. "The gatehouse you ran into. Those men were supposed to keep the gates from coming down." He smiled.

"The boy did not need to die. He died at the hand of his superior. What leader kills his own student?"

"One he deems as a threat." Altair said. "But if you mean if I would have had a quarrel with him, the answer is no."

"So young to die."

"You could have been slain as well, but you held your ground."

She looked at him. "I could not let a man who killed an innocent live."

He nodded. "Though the boy was not innocent. He did kill at least one of your assassin brothers."

"He did not wish to. He was under orders."

"Some of the worst atrocities of war are committed by those 'following orders'." Altair said.

"Does that make them non-innocents or pawns."

"Both." He said. "The assassins who fought, kill, and perished today did so on my order. They are all not innocent as well, including you, my daughter."

"But we are trained to kill. Judah was not. He could barely hold his sword."

"Judah was it." He said regarding her.

"You talk of him like he was a stray dog." She said folding her arms.

"In a way he was, and he found a woman to keep him safe." He remarked. "Women are always softer of heart, child. It is why you bear and raise children while men make war to protect you." He sighed.

She nodded. As usual his pragmatic way of words that spoke of the world rang true.

"Do you know what this is?" He asked lifting a sphere with runes upon it.

"No." she said.

He dropped it into her hands. As she took it a light sprung from it. He smiled. "Artifacts always know each other." He said in approval.

"What is it, father?"

"It is an Apple of Eden." He said. "It can corrupt man or lead them to great knowledge provided the wielder has the wherewithal to use it well." He smiled. "Just as with you." He lifted a hand to her cheek as she looked into the light a moment.

As she looked up the light died and he took the Apple back from her. "What about me, father?"

"Do you think just anyone can call forth the Apple or use Light to burn flesh?"

"You can use the Apple."

"For which I have no explanation as to why." He smiled at her and kissed her brow as he looked back seeing Darim watching from the doorway. He leaned against it giving them their privacy, but also there to watch over his wife.

"What am I that I can do that?" She asked looking at her hands.

He cupped them in his and brought them to his lips. "Someone very special." He smiled. "I made a vow to protect you and I will honor that vow until the end of my days, daughter."

She sighed and looked at her arm. "I must wash this off."

"Yes. Though you killed with honor and remembered the code." He looked back to Darim. "Allow your husband to care for you now." He said.

She nodded and walked to Darim who came to her and hugged her. His kiss was warm and gently and he turned to lead her to their rooms. The man's blood came from her clothing and skin well enough, but the memory of killing stuck with her. She was an assassin and at times they had to end a life to preserve others.

She sat in her chemise looking at the moon outside their window as she pulled her hair free. "Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine." She said softly.

Darim saw how thoughtful she was as she brushed her hair over her shoulder. He had heard her. He gently took the brush and brushed her hair out looking at them in a mirror. "You were so brave."

She looked back at him and he dropped his head to kiss her mouth. "Templars will destroy this earth." She said. "It is our job to prevent that."

He nodded. "Yes."


	11. Small Gifts of Hope

Hope - Chapter 11 – Small Gifts of Hope

It had been two months and the snows were already starting to stick in the courtyard of Masyaf castle. It was not even the through the first week of November yet, but the snows had flown about for two weeks. They, however, had just started to stick. The assassins were bundled in their winter clothing that was fur lined and wore gloves to keep their hands from freezing.

The guards outside stuck close to the braziers for warmth as they stood their vigils. The trainings had moved indoors and moved to studies of books rather than fighting. Sparing did occur on warm days outside, but at times would occur in the main halls.

Amal stirred her soup as she stared at it in disinterest. Her mind was wondering elsewhere. To the parchment she needed to write for an exam for Master Karim, a large book on herbs she needed to look at for local medicinal plants, and her own illnesses in the morning that prevented her from eating anything other than hardened bread and water with ginger to settle her stomach.

"Habibti…" Came a soft voice into her dreams. She sighed. She was really dreaming. Twice she had sworn Darim had been talking to her. She woke twice to find her bed without him at her side and she was very chilled. He always stocked the fire and his body kept her warm. The last two nights no matter how many blankets she had put on her, she had been cold. Shivering, she had wept as she held his pillow, breathing in his comforting scent before she fell asleep.

Someone shook her lightly on her shoulder. They were close enough she could feel their body heat. She looked up at them a moment before she realized who it was, expecting Altair or Sef.

She startled and looked up at her husband who had come to join her in the hall for the noonday meal. Darim had grown into a powerful man. He was broader in the shoulders than his sire and taller. Sef was also growing to be as well, and would likely be taller even than Darim, but would have his father's thinner build. Darim had left at dawn three days ago to join a scouting party to make sure that the Templars had left the area. She had told him to be safe when he left her at the great fortress door, a blanket wrapped about her shoulders. The weather was starting to turn and the weather if nothing else would drive them from Masyaf.

He had returned and taken his brother's arm in welcome before inquiring about his wife. Sef had commented that she was in the hall, but had been feeling poorly as of late. Darim knew well his brother would watch her well as would their father. Sef if anything watched her more than Darim did. They were confidants and best friends and Darim was never jealous of them being together even when they were on a divan with him reading to her as she snuggled up to him or when they were together whispering.

Amal had grown a couple inches as well, but she would never be tall as her husband, brother-in-law, and father-in-law. She was petite and lithe, but she had gifts elsewhere besides brute strength. She had subtlety that many assassins lacked. She was also growing more into womanhood. Her breasts were growing larger, her hair thicker, and her legs longer and body more toned. She was losing the look of an awkward teenager and looking more like a woman.

He smiled at her and pressed a light kiss to her lips. "May I join you?" He asked.

She smiled at him. "Of course husband." She said.

He reached and picked up the bread and broke it in half. He rubbed his hands together. She smiled at him and lifted the bowl. "It is still warm." She said offering it.

"I would not steal from you, my love."

"I am not hungry and you have been without a hot meal for some days, my husband." She lifted the spoon. He took it gratefully and devoured the soup as she nibbled the bread she had remaining. He noticed her picking at the bread as she looked down at the table, lost in her world again.

"You seem to be miles away." He said reaching to touch her cheek.

She looked up at him. "Yes sorry. Thinking of how to word an essay I have been given."

"Nothing else?"

She shook her head. "Not that I know of."

He nodded satisfied at least at that moment in that. He returned to the food eating like a starved man. The soup was no longer hot, but it was warm and full of meat and vegetables. The broth was good and the bread was thick and yeasty.

He took her cup of tea and sipped it and looked at her thoughtfully. "I do not think I have ever seen you so deep in your own thoughts, Habibti." He said.

She smiled at him. "Forgive me." She said. "I have not really been able to concentrate on what I was doing all week. Ask your mother. I have restarted the same blanket I have been knitting three times because I forget my counts."

He chuckled.

He collected the dishes as she finished her bread and took them to where the novices were washing them. He and his brother had taken their turns in the kitchens. Amal had as well last winter, though she seemed to be better adding flavors together. Her delicate skin had cracked terribly when she had been washing dishes being that there were so many. Darim spent two days pasting on salve to the painful cracks. It had rendered her hands useless for a couple of days and so she had gone to sit with her father-in-law and listen to him speak about his life before becoming the Mentor and being with Maria. Darim had come in once looking for his novice wife and found her engrossed in a tale as she sat on the floor before Altair's chair like a small child. There were many chairs in the study, but she felt most comfortable on the floor with her back to the fire. Darim had seen this when she had done her crafts as well in their own rooms. There were chairs, but she had sat on the floor with her small beads of glass and bone making decorations and emblems to pass the time in the long winter.

He walked back to his wife who was looking out one of the great windows as snow began to fall again. "I am glad you are home safe." She said.

"I am as well." He said. "Come." He said taking her hand and leading her from the hall. They both paused on the step as the wind reached for them with cold claws. Darim shifted to block much of the wind from her as they walked to the living quarter stairway.

They walked to their own rooms. Darim watched his wife as she walked in a daze. She had never been so and he followed after her as she walked into the room and sat down on the floor. He watched her as she stirred the coals and looked up sharply as the wind rocked the shutters outside their window.

"Just the wind." He assured.

He nuzzled her as he dropped down beside her. She did not move as she looked down at the great book between her legs. After a time, he rose and went to his desk to write a report for his father. Altair insisted on reports to be written and kept in a large book.

He looked over and saw his wife rubbing the back of her neck as she read the great book. He sighed and rose to his feet going to her. "You should stop now, my love. You are sore and you have been rubbing your neck the past thirty minutes." He bent and kissed her hair.

"I need to study." She said.

He looked down and chuckled. "You are on the same page you were on when I moved away and hour ago."

She looked up at him as his large hands began to caress her tight neck muscles. "You left?"

Shaking his head at her, he shifted and bent and lifted her up in his arms and carried her to their bed. She protested a moment, but after a moment stopped. He gently sat her on it and rolled her over as he began to rub her back with his large warm hands. She sighed in pleasure.

He made quick work of the ties and revealed her skin. Her flawless olive skin goose-fleshed in the cool air as he dipped her shoulders gently out of the robe and pulled it from her arms, one at a time. He shifted and sat on his knees on either side of her hips. His large hands rubbed the tight flesh and he felt her relaxing.

She was nearly asleep when he rolled her over beneath him. Smiling at her in the candlelight he noticed her nipples had darkened and her breasts were larger than he remembered. He reached up and caressed one. She woke and looked at him. "Careful, they are tender." She said softly.

He nodded and bent forward to suck on one gently, but insistently. He looked up at her looking down at him, her breath becoming hitched. The rest of the night promised to be just as pleasurable for her. Her husband was taking his time as he caressed, kissed, and licked the exposed skin. He smiled at her tenderly as they watched each other. Three days Darim had been without her warm soft body and he had missed it utterly.

ZzZ

The next morning Darim woke at dawn and looked down at his wife who was curled in her arms. She woke and rose to eat some of the hard rolls she had to eat. It settled her stomach in the morning. Her husband watched her as she padded around the room naked eating her bread and seeming oblivious to the fact he was there.

He shifted and sat up. She was clearly not herself as she shifted and stirred the coals before pulling on her robe. He shook his head and walked to her. "Amal? Are you well?"

She looked up at him. "Of course. I just need bread to settle my stomach."

"How long has your stomach been unwell in the mornings?" He asked.

"A week or so." She said. She looked back at the fire.

ZzZ

Darim dressed and walked from the room after giving her a kiss on her cheek. Her behavior was like nothing he had ever witnessed in nearly two years of marriage.

He sought out his mother and father. They were having breakfast together in a small alcove of the hall. "Father." He greeted. "Mother." He smiled and bent to kiss her cheek.

"Darim." Maria said. "What brings you here?"

"I am worried for my wife." Darim said as he looked down.

Altair nodded to the extra chair. "Sit my son. What is going on that you are worried?"

"She is distracted and deep within her own mind. If she was not answering me when I spoke to her, I would think she was going mad." Darim said his elbows on his knees.

Maria touched his shoulder. "What else?"

"She claims bread has been settling her stomach in the mornings and she has not been eating much in the day, but supper comes and she eats more than two men."

Maria looked up at Altair who had shifted in sudden interest. She cocked her head. "Have you noticed other things?" She asked.

"There is a line on her stomach, faint from her small belly-button to …" He coughed. "Her bosom is larger and darker." He was flushed speaking about his wife so and Maria knew it was only out of concern he was mentioning such things. Assassins were taught to look for small clues and differences.

Altair sat back and regarded his son and Maria a moment. He then sat forward and touched his son's knee. "You must speak to a healer, my son."

"Is she in danger?"

"No." Altair smiled a little. "She just is…"

"Darim!" Sef's voice came from behind him. Darim turned and then leapt to his feet seeing that Sef had Amal half leaning against him and he was half carrying her.

"What happened?" Darim asked going to them as Altair and Maria looked at each other and stood.

"She was on the stairs. She was feeling faint. As we walked she nearly fell." Sef said looking at Amal who was blinking as though trying to clear her head.

Darim nodded and swung her into his arms. With a look back at his parents, he went quickly toward the healer wing. Sef, Altair, and Maria followed.

Aziz smiled at Darim. "This young lady has had her share of problems. What ails her this time?" He asked. "Poor little child."

"I do not feel…well." Amal said, speaking for herself.

Aziz nodded. "What is wrong?"

Darim recounted what he knew and Amal was amazed at how much he had noticed. Aziz nodded and looked up. "Maria. Would you join me and help with her examination?"

Maria nodded and came forward. "You three leave." She said.

"But…" Darim protested, but Altair took him by the shoulders and led him from the room.

"She is well, son. Let them look her over."

"If she were well, why are we here? Why is she fainting, why is she eating like a bird, and why is she so much in her own head?"

"Perhaps it is better than your company." Sef teased and Darim hissed and shoved him away even as Sef chuckled. "Come now, brother, if father says she is well, she is likely fine."

Darim hissed and began to pace.

Altair watched him. "Darim…my son…calm yourself. You being anxious will not help her in this time."

"Why are you always so cryptic? Why can you never just say what is going on?" Darim snapped as he leaned against the wall his arms folded.

Altair knew he was speaking out of worry for his young spouse and so did not reprimand the tone, but rather remained calm himself. "Have you ever seen how a woman changes?" He asked.

"I watch my wife grow into her own every day."

Altair nodded. "For this reason you saw the changes." He smiled a little. "She is not unwell, Darim." He walked forward and took his son by the shoulders. "Think. You have the answer to this riddle."

Darim looked away.

The door opened to reveal the smiling Maria. She was wiping her hands and grinning. Darim moved away from his father and looked at his mother, his intense dark eyes wild. "What is it, mother?" He asked.

"You know your father practically strangled the healer when he awaited the news about me." Maria said. "Calm, yourself my son." She said looking at him. She looked at Altair. "He is so much like you."

"Yes." Altair said in amusement.

Darim growled something and Maria lifted his arms to stop him going into the room for a moment. "We tease you, Darim, but it is good news. Your father and I suspected it, but has been confirmed." She looked up at him smiling. "Come summer you will be a father yourself, Darim."

Darim took a breath unsure if he had heard correctly. "She…she…" He was unsteady a moment and Maria held his arms.

"She is carrying your child, yes."

Darim's mouth opened, but nothing came out. Sef looked at him and then at his father. "Tell me you did not look that stupid when you found out, father."

Altair laughed outright. "I may have looked worse." He touched his elder son's shoulder. "You should go to her."

Darim nodded mutely as he clapped his mouth shut. He then smiled and kissed his mother's cheek as he pulled her into a hug. She was startled by this and stiffened, but then allowed her son as all his emotions rose up in him.

Altair chuckled. He had been there. The relief, the amazement, and the happiness could be overwhelming for a first time father and all the emotions would return twice more when he felt the baby move with his wife, and when she finally gave birth and he held his child for the first time.

Darim went to his wife, wiping the tears of joy from his eyes as he walked to her. She was looking up at him from the pallet. She looked nervous. Why would she be nervous with such a happy event?

He sat down and looked at her, his face going through a whole series of emotion. He smiled at her. "Thank you." Was all he could say before he dropped his head down to her midriff and pressed his cheek to her gently.

She looked down at him. "You can't feel it yet, my love."

"Why not?"

"I have not felt it yet."

"Are you well?" He asked suddenly anxious as he sat up looking at her his dark eyes watching her every move.

Aziz chuckled. "Perfectly. It will be some weeks before it quickens, Darim." He chuckled. "You should take her to rest."

"Of course." Darim said.

Maria was beaming as Altair walked forward as well. They stood together at the base of the bed. Sef stood near them watching them all. He was somewhat envious of his brother at that moment, but he loved seeing his brother and sister-in-law so happy.

"She will need good food and nourishing food. She is eating for two now and we must all remember to allow her to eat what she feels she can and in the amounts she can."

Altair nodded and watched as his son lifted the girl up from the bed with ease. "Darim, I can walk." She protested.

Altair shook his head and lifted a hand to her hand gently. "Let him." He said softly. "He cares for you. Let him show it."

Amal relented and leaned against her husband's chest as Altair bent and kissed her brow gently. "I am happy for you both." He told her and then looked up at his son.

Darim walked to his rooms and set his wife on the divan and the gently looked at her. "You are the most amazing person I know."

She laughed. "Your father is at the top of my list." She commented.

He chuckled. "He cannot give me a child." He bent his head down and kissed her abdomen and then pressed his hand to her as though trying to discern where the swell was. She leaned back watching him. He was curious and enthralled.

She smiled at him. "Darim…" She whispered.

He looked up. She beckoned him and he leaned up. She kissed him and he braced himself against the back of the divan and the arm she was leaning against. She pressed his hood back and tangled her hands in his short hair. "Yes, Habibti?" He asked softly, his face inches from her own.

"I love you." She said looking at him, her eyes moist.

"As I you, Amal." He whispered and kissed her again. "My dear, beautiful wife." He said as he closed his eyes and rested his brow against hers as he hugged her to him. Neither was interested in lovemaking, but the closeness made them both comfortable.

ZzZ

Altair returned to his study. He had spent an hour speaking to Maria convincing her it was a bit premature to start buy cloth for blankets and other such things the child would need when it was born. That was many months away. Altair's priority was to keep the girl warm, well fed, and well loved.

When an assassin's family lost their husband and father, Altair had given them money to survive and even looked after them if they remained in Masyaf. The children looked at him as a grandfather, but it was different with his own grandchild now coming.

He smiled and walked to his desk and sat down. He had been excited for the birth of his son Darim. Though he was pleased when a son was born, he would have been happy with both mother and child safe. As for a grandchild, oddly, he wanted a daughter first. One he could spoil, make toys for, and train at his knee. Perhaps it was only because he did not have any experience with a female child that he longed for one. He had heard they were harder than boys and doubtless if Amal did carry a girl, the little thing would be as spoiled as a princess between Altair, her father, and her uncle.

Darim had been such a blessing and Maria had been stoic in her pregnancy. She had not wanted help, but did like him nearby. By the end of her time, Altair had almost become maid like, fetching food at all times of the day, keeping her cool with ice from the mountains around Masyaf, cleaning their room, and mending clothing with her to keep her company.

Altair lifted some wood and began to use a knife to work on it. He set the wood down and lifted a parchment. He began to draw a cradle design. He had carved Darim's cradle once and it had kept his hands busy to avoid the sharp reprimands from Maria that he was being too smothering.

Altair smiled ruefully. His son would likely be accused of that often as she grew heavier with the child in her womb. Altair would cut her studies back to reading and spending time learning from the Mentor himself to keep her from causing herself or the child harm. As her pregnancy advanced she would no longer have the stamina, but now was a dangerous time for her and the babe. Darim would likely keep her as sequestered as much as possible, which being the girl had a defiant streak as Maria had, it would not be long before she found the means to escape him occasionally.

Altair sighed. He was going to be a grandfather. Though not yet fifty, Altair knew many of his peers were grandparents already, though they had older children as well. He looked at the sketch he had started.

This cradle would be perfect.

Just as his grandchild would be.


	12. The Icy Grip of winter

Hope – Chapter 12 – The Icy Grip of winter

It was full winter in Masyaf.

The Solstice was a week away and Christmastide was a few days after that.

Amal was sitting by the fire, in her usual place of the floor on a blanket with a pillow behind her back as she rested against a chair. Darim had learned to allow her to sit so. She could change positions at will and she could have her beads spread before her within easy reach.

Darim entered the room after spending much of the day sparing in the main hall. He looked at his wife as she held a small bead of glass to the light looking at it. He smiled leaning against the doorframe a moment. The dress Amal was wearing did nothing to hide her condition. She was starting to show her condition, though not terribly. The swell looked like a small ball under her dress. She could still hide it when she wished.

Darim walked to her and squatted down beside her. She looked up at him. Before the fire she was warm and he smiled as he looked at her creations. "These are beautiful, Habibti."

"Thank you." She said. She lifted a necklace. "Malik wanted this one for his daughter." She said. "I am not sure. I may make a bracelet to match as well."

He chuckled and kissed her brow. "Have you eaten?"

"Breakfast." She said continuing to add more beads to a string she was working on.

He pressed his hands over hers. "Come. We need to feed you before you become faint." He said.

"It is barely noon." She said.

He shook his head and nodded to the window. "It is already dark, my love."

She turned and looked startled. "Oh!" She said looking down. "The time has passed so fast."

He chuckled. "You were doing as you wished. Come. You need food and even if you do not, our child does." He laid a hand on her abdomen over the swell.

He helped her to her feet and held her steady as she wavered a moment. Her balance had been thrown off a bit by the pregnancy and he had become used to, over the weeks, helping her regain her footing. They walked together to the kitchens.

The cook had grown accustomed to dealing with the young woman and her eating habits. Altair had made sure the cook well knew of her condition. At night the girl loves apples and cheese as a snack to get her through to the morning. Thankfully, the cook could rest since Darim enjoyed bringing his wife's snacks to her.

Amal perched on a bench as the cook smiled and brought the girl a dish of creamy soup with vegetables and lamb. The bread that the girl was so fond of sat nearby and Darim cut her a large slice and himself one and buttered them with the fresh butter that had been churned that morning in a small tub.

She ate her fill and sighed as she closed her eyes a moment, her hand drifting to her belly as she sat. The cook had brought her some tea as well and she sipped it as she saw there. Darim watched her a moment before standing, walking behind her, and pressing his own hand over hers as he stood there.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked as he put his chin lightly on her shoulder.

"I wonder if it is a girl or a boy."

"Does it matter?"

"No." she said. "But I am sure you want a son."

He shook his head and kissed her cheek. "So long as you and the babe are healthy, I do not care what it is."

She looked at him. He meant it. She smiled and leaned back against his broad chest a moment. Darim looked at the cook. Something smelled wonderful. "What are you cooking for supper?" He asked.

"Rabbit." The cook said. "The hares are in abundance and young Amal has liked hers the past few times she has eaten it."

Darim nodded and chuckled.

ZzZ

The New Year started with one of the worst blizzards the assassins could remember. Inside everyone was bundled and sitting close to fires and braziers as the fortress itself had cracks for the wind to whistle through.

Darim had resorted to putting an old blanket up over the window shutter to prevent the snow and wind from blowing in on he and his wife at night. They had a new blanket that Maria had made them and Amal had helped with. It was made of scraps and older blankets that had useable pieces. A patchwork of color, it was very warm and Amal appreciated it. She was often chilled.

Amal was sitting in Altair's study listening to him speak. The Mentor always had words of wisdom and he stood by his fire speaking about a lesson he had learned as she for once sat in a chair with a blanket on her thighs.

He heard her small gasp and turned to her pausing in his words. She was looking down at her abdomen. The swell was more pronounced now. Her hands were on it. Her face was puzzled as she looked at it.

"What is it?" He asked coming to her and squatting down beside her. His bones cracked as he did, but he paid it little mind as he looked at her in concern.

Her face looked up at him in excitement. "I…I think….I think I can feel it." She said softly.

"The child?" He asked.

"Yes." She said. "I feel…like there is a caged moth. It is fluttering against my ribs." She said trying to describe what she felt.

He smiled, his eyes held affection. "The baby has quickened." He chuckled. "It is moving." He said.

She looked at him in not understanding.

"Maria said it was like a little bat." Altair said.

"What is a little bat?" Darim asked as he walked into the study. He was stood looking at his father and wife.

Altair smiled and chuckled as he pressed a kiss to her brow before rising. "Your wife says it is a moth."

"What is?" Darim asked looking about the room. His wife's movements caught his attention. She rose to her feet, but her gait was different. Her hands were on her abdomen as she walked.

Altair moved to his desk. "You may go, my daughter. You have some things to speak of to your husband." He said.

Darim looked confused as his wife took his hand and walked from the study a small smile on her face. In the hall he lifted her hand to his lips and looked at her. "What the hell is he talking about, my love?" He looked at her. "Moths and bats?"

She smiled as she continued to feel the odd feeling. "The baby is alive."

"Of course it is, it is within you growing." He said as though she were stating the obvious.

She shook her head. "No, Darim. I can feel it."

He paused as they passed several assassins. He pulled her into an alcove with a glassed window. Outside the wind and snow made it nearly impossible to see, but he was focused only on his petite wife. His hands were on her swell as he felt around as though trying to feel the baby himself. He looked a bit hurt when he looked up at her. "I feel nothing."

"Perhaps it needs to be larger."

He nodded. He then bent and kissed her softly. "It has quickened, my love." He said. He then grinned. "We are going to be parents." He took a breath. "I hope I can be half the father, mine is."

"Hush." She said shaking her head as she smiled. "You will be a wonderful father."

He smiled at her. "I can hope."

ZzZ

Altair was in his study many hours.

Maria came in and looking for him. He was working by candlelight on a wooden cradle for his grandchild. She smiled as she looked in from the door as he used the tools of a carpenter to build such a beautiful object.

"Our grandson will sleep well in that, Altair." She said.

He looked up and smiled. "I can hope. I still am working on making it smooth." He said touching it.

"It is not easy work. It is interesting to watch a man who uses those same hands to kill, he can also create."

"I have spent my life killing with cause, Maria. Being a father and thinking about being a grandfather makes you reflective." He said turning back to his work.

"Surely you do not regret your life, Altair."

"No. It is the only life I have known. This child will be born into our order as well." He looked up at her again. "Darim will be a good father."

"Yes." Maria said. She sat down in a chair near him. "Just as you were."

"I am not sure I showed the affection that Darim and even Sef have for the coming babe."

She smiled. "You did, you just expressed it differently and not as openly. You are a father and father-in-law to Amal, something she craved and needed." She sighed. "And you were the more affectionate of the two of us." She looked down. "Watching Amal with Darim and I wonder if I was cold to you husband." She looked up. "Do you regret marrying me?"

He looked up sharply. "You married me, Maria, you birthed my two sons, and we have raised them as best we could. Perhaps it is a mark on our parenting, how well the two turned out and how they treat Amal." He took a breath. "The mark of parents is not on themselves, but how their children behave. I should think we should be proud."

She nodded. "You are right." She rose to her feet and went to him.

He hugged her a moment and then she leaned down to kiss him gently. "I love you." He said softly.

"I know." She said as he took her hand raising it to his lips. "I love you, too, Altair."

He smiled up at her. "I have never regretted my life with you."

She nodded as he let her hand drop. "Come to bed soon, Altair." She said softly before turning to leave. He took a breath and sighed. He set down his tools and went to follow her. He paused at the door looking at the beautiful carved cradle once more before leaving. He smiled and closed the door.

ZzZ

Winter melted into spring, but the icy breath of winter remained in the mountain regions long after she had abandoned the valleys below. Spring in the valleys meant there would be better produce and trade goods coming up to Masyaf.

Amal's body continued to change. Just as the seasons were changing, so too was her form. The Ibn –La'Ahad family watched her. She was glowing; her skin was flawless and beautiful in the light. Her hair was thick and her breasts had grown larger. Her hips had fleshed out as well and as she walked she leaned backwards to counter the large swell of her abdomen.

Even so, she was still beautiful and looked more mature than she ever had. It was, however, becoming harder for Darim to sleep at night. His wife had to move to go urinate at least twice in the night because the child was sitting on her uncomfortably. He had grown accustomed to her need for back and foot rubs as well as sleeping on her side in an effort to be more comfortable.

She no longer wore the robes of an assassin. Her awkward movements around the fortress would prevent her from being of use in that regard anyway. She wore the long robes of a matron of the fortress that were loose and comfortable around her bulk.

Altair had made her somewhat of a secretary and orderly to allow her to have an active role in something of Assassin business to prevent her from going mad from boredom while the final months of her pregnancy went on.

The role allowed her to sit, lie down, or even stand if she needed to so she could record Altair's words. She wrote letters for him and took care of the bookkeeping, something Altair hated because it was too political for him, but with a pregnant woman there, pettiness seemed to go out the window since no one dared raise the ire of Amal. Raising her ire would lead to disfavor with Altair, the great Mentor and protector of the Levant.

Maria had called her daughter-in-law to tea after Amal had finished a lengthy meeting with the mayor of Masyaf and the town banker. The girl was impartial, even more so than Altair and she had handled the dispute over funding for a new shop beautifully after hearing their arguments. She had risen halfway through the discussions as the child moved and she needed to stand.

She entered the study of Maria and smiled at her mother-in-law. "Maria. Thank you. I needed tea."

Maria took her hands and kissed her cheeks softly. "Perhaps something stronger?" The matron asked.

Amal chuckled. "No, tea will soothe me."

Maria nodded and poured some for her. "Are you well today?"

"Yes." Amal said. "Just weary."

"You should not overexert yourself."

"I am well, I promise. Darim keeps me well looked after and when he is away, Sef does."

Maria did not doubt it. "My sons are very protective of you. It is good to see."

"Yes." Amal smiled. Darim would often stay at her side when he was free of his work. He had been given a new rank and as such as his own group of novices he was now training with his brother. Once they were masters they would train the novices they felt ready to move on to become true assassins.

Maria smiled.

The girl sat and sipped the warm liquid as she rubbed her hands on the warm china. She then looked at the cups. "I do not remember these." The girl said looking at the designs in blue and white around the rim.

"Altair bought them from a merchant as an anniversary gift." Maria smiled. "They come from China."

"So far away?"

"The Silk Road brings us many things, Amal."

Amal sipped more of the warm liquid. She caressed her belly softly deep in thought for a moment.

Maria smiled. "Have you thought of a name yet?"

"Darim likes Bilal for a boy."

"And if it is female?"

"Sef like Noor, but I like Majida."

"The first caller of Islam, Light, and Noble Glory. All good names." Maria said. "None of them are English sounding." She said.

"Darim and I are Syrian born." Amal said cocking her head.

"Darim is half Syrian and half English." Maria corrected.

Amal sighed. "I never gave English names much thought. I am sorry if that offends you, mother."

Maria shook her head. "It does not offend me as much as I thought that Darim liked English names. He liked the name John and William once."

Amal shook her head. "I do not." She said simply.

Maria looked at the younger woman. "As is your right." She took a breath. "I had hoped at least one grandchild would carry the name of my brothers of father, however." She watched the girl. "Christians often do such things."

Amal set down her cup. "I will speak to Darim, but I will not have my child mocked for having a foreign name."

Maria watched the girl rise to her feet. "You are leaving so soon?"

"Forgive me, I need some air. The fortress is stuffy. The child is moving and it hurts me to sit long."

Maria dipped her head. "Of course, child."

"Es salaem 'alekum, mother." The girl dipped her head in respect and walked for the door.

"Alekum es salaam." Maria answered as she watched the girl waddle from the room. She sighed. Maria was used to having her way, but the girl had stood up to her. There was valor in that and Maria respected her, but still, it had left Maria a bit bitter at the simple reason the girl would not even hear her out.

ZzZ

Altair found his daughter-in-law in the back gardens looking out over the canyons. She was watching the wind dance in the trees and listening to the noise. She was seated on a bench overlooking the waterfall, the spray always made a nice mist there for when it was hot, although in winter it was traitorous to be there due to the ice.

It was a relatively warm day and the girl had her hood down, her thick long hair hung down her back in a thick braid that near was to the ground with her seated on the bench. She was leaning to the side, a hand on her swollen womb, eyes closed.

Altair moved forward and coughed softly so as not to startle her too greatly. She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Father." She greeted.

"There you are, my little dove." He said. "May I join you?"

"Of course." She said patting the bench beside her.

He came and sat down looking at her. "You are glowing like the sun today." He smiled at her. He bent and kissed her cheek. "Are you both well?"

"Yes, thank you." She smiled. "It does not move as much."

"Perhaps it has little room now." He smiled. He watched her wince and her hand go to the spot where the baby had kicked. He had seen the child move against the dress front and smiled. "Easy, little one. You do not wish to hurt your mother do you?"

She laughed a little. "Always when you or Darim are near, it is calmer, but also wishes to be felt."

He looked up at her, silently asking permission to touch her. She was grateful for this. Many of the other women in the village had come to her at the market and touched her proudly claiming it to be a boy or girl, depending on their own superstitions.

She reached for his four fingered hand and pressed it to the side of the swell and smiled up at him. "Of course, Father."

"I did not wish to upset you by assuming I could invade your personal space, daughter. I know women are touchy about such things. I had to ask Maria often if I could touch her as she carried our sons. I depended how cross she was at the time."

"I do not mind my family touching me."

"Still, that is more Darim's right as your husband. I am fine with asking permission of you. It is at least a courtesy and perhaps a formality, but shows my respect for you all the same, my dove."

She smiled up at him and shifted as his hand still rested on her. She leaned up and kissed his cheek softly and he grinned. His hand caressed the swell lightly. She winced and then laughed as the baby kicked back at his hand.

He smiled. "Hello, my little one." He said softly. "Soon you will come into this world and have a whole family excited to meet you." Altair knew well he was the first outside its mother that the tiny infant had kicked and been felt. Both Altair and Amal had been surprised by it, but it was touching to see the look of surprise change to deep affection and love on the Mentor's face. Darim had had a similar look when it kicked him three days later. Sef had felt it the day after that. Maria had been disappointed it had not kicked her hand and Altair teased her that the child clearly had her stubbornness. This was added to when Darim embraced his wife and jumped back when a powerful kick hit his groin and he stepped back from his wife in surprise thinking it had been her until he saw her hands. Maria had left angry and Altair had followed her and calmed her. She had apologized for her anger to Darim the next day.

Maria. She was another problem.

She looked up at him. "Do you have any names you wish it to be called?" She asked with a guarded tone. He caught her sudden change of mood going from happy to apprehension and looked at her a moment.

"My father's name was Umar and my mother was Ayishah." He said. "I have both their blood in me as does Darim and Sef." He cocked his head. "I never knew my mother. She died giving life to me. I would like to honor her someday, but the name of your child should be your own." He said.

She took a sigh of relief. "I am glad."

"Why?" He looked at her searching her face.

"Maria was not pleased I did not wish to name my child after her English family."

He shook his head. "Never mind her. When you give her a grandchild to spoil she will forget such petty nonsense."

"Will she?"

"Yes." He smiled and rose to his feet. "Come. You should not have too much sun. It can make you ill."

"But the breeze is nice."

"Your skin is already turning a bit red, my dove. Come before the sun burns you more." He gently pulled the hood up over her bare neck and head. "It may be painful tonight. I have a salve that takes the angry sting from the burn if you would like some. I had to learn it from the Saracens when Maria started to live here as well since she is fair skinned."

"I am not fair skinned."

He chuckled. "I have seen Africans of the darkest color burn in too much sunlight, my dove. Now come. We will find you a nice place indoors with a breeze from a window at least until Darim is free."

She nodded and with his help levered herself up to stand. She was leaning far back now and he smiled at her as she walked.

Soon, very soon she would be holding the child she carried.


	13. The Power of Love

Chapter 13 – The Power of Love

It was summer.

Amal had been tasked to bring herbs from around Masyaf for medicines for the winter months. She had been well trained for this after her months of not fighting due to her pregnancy. Thankfully the areas she needed to explore had trees and shade.

Amal was digging up roots as Sef and Darim looked on. For someone as pregnant as she was, she moved remarkably well and refused to comment about how weary she was. They had been out for more than three hours and Darim was losing patience. She had gathered nearly two baskets of herbs that she had tied to a horse. They were only a mile from the town along a beaten path that game traveled as well as the students under the master herbologist.

She finished with a root and hissed a little as she winced before giving it to Sef. He took it and looked at her as she turned back.

"Amal?" He asked.

"I am fine. We need another to make it through the winter."

Darim stood with his arms folded as his brother walked to the horse. "Why did father allow her to do this task?"

"It makes her feel useful, brother."

"Yes, but she…"

"Has been miserable for days due to the heat. Let her feel that she has done something before she decides to use that knife her hers."

Darim fell silent and folded his arms. He was eighteen, fully a man, and the largest of his household. He was nearly half a head taller than his father and twice his breathe in shoulders. Sef was taller still, but had his father's thinner, lighter build. Neither wished to admit they were being bossed around by a petite, pregnant, thirteen year old woman.

Amal lifted the last root and something spoke in her mind. "Move!" It cried.

She felt compelled and shifted forward as something large leapt down at her. Its leap was meant to land on her back and with luck; its jaws would grip her neck and break it without a fight. As it was the large leopard landed on her calf, claws extended, and bit down on her arm as she twisted. For a terrible moment the girl looked at the majestic creature as she sat nose to nose with it. Then its teeth ripped into the flesh of her arm and jerked her to the side as she cried out in pain.

Drawing her knife up she stabbed wildly hitting the cat's shoulder. It was not lethal, but it hurt enough for the cat to drop her arm. She gasped and moved backwards as the cat roared at her lifting a great paw to swipe at her.

The blow never fell as Darim came into view and used the flat of his sword to gain the attention of the angered large cat. Darim had been shocked to see the leopard leap from above and somehow avoid killing his wife. When she cried out in pain, he was already running to her aide as was Sef.

The big cat focused now on Darim as Darim taunted it away from his wife and Sef who was crouched before her protectively, his own sword drawn.

"Are you hurt, Habibti?" He asked gently.

"My arm…" She said.

He looked back and saw the blood from the puncture wounds. "You will live." He said.

Darim crouched and the leopard leapt at him. Amal screamed as Darim fell back. After a moment Darim struggled and shifted the leopard off him. His blade had stabbed it through its chest cavity to its heart. Amal struggled to her feet and limped to him. "You killed him." She said sadly.

Darim looked at her and then down at the leopard. "He would have killed you, Habibti."

"I did not want his death…"

"He nearly did kill you. What made you move?" Darim asked.

"I don't know." She looked down at the cat. "He was a great beast. He will be missed." She took a breath. "You were a proud father." She said. "You lived and died well. My husband is also a proud father and killed you to protect his offspring even as you just wished a meal."

"Come, Amal. He does not need to be treated with such respect." Sef said coming to her. "He was an animal."

"So are we and we respect our brothers!" She snapped and he lifted his hands, stepping back as she touched the fur gently. "May you find peace, brother." She said. Darim shrugged at his brother allowing her to do what she willed.

She took a breath and walked back to the root she had dropped. Blood was dripping from her arm and she sighed. She took the root and walked back to the horse. Putting the root in the bag she took a deep breath.

Darim noticed something different in her gait as she moved. It was with more hesitation. He walked to her and lifted her bleeding arm in his gently. "We need to get this attended to." He said. "I can bind it until we get back to the healers in Masyaf."

She nodded.

He ripped the sleeve at the shoulder and pulled it down her arm and off. Her arm was a bloody mess from her elbow joint to nearly her wrist. The cat teeth had punctured nearly to the bone in places and blood oozed freely from a dozen wounds. Sef brought him cloth and when that did not prove to be enough Sef lifted Amal's overdress up. She looked at him startled at his forwardness and then he ripped her petticoats which he passed to his brother. Once her arm was bound, they began to walk back to Masyaf.

Amal was not having an was not having an easy to keep up with the men. She bent over suddenly as a terribly pain hit her. Sef who had been beside her as Darim led the horse stopped and gently touched her back.

"Amal?"

She looked up at him and gritted her teeth. "It hurts." She gasped.

"What does?"

"My back, stomach…"

Sef looked at her a moment and then pressed his hand to her abdomen. He felt the contraction ebbing under his hand. "Darim!" He cried.

His brother turned back as Sef lifted the startled woman up onto the horse even as she tried to gain her breath back. He sat her side saddle and she gripped the mane of the horse to hold on.

"We need to move faster."

"Mother said to not let her ride a horse." Darim said in confusion.

Sef turned back and took the reins and began to move at a faster pace. "Would you rather deliver your child here in the desert then?"

"What?" Darim asked.

He came to his brother's side. His brother was sixteen at time overreacted when it came to Amal, especially with her pregnancy. Sef looked at him sharply. "She is in labor, brother."

"How do you know?"

"She is having contractions."

"What? No I am not. Twinges." Amal said.

"No they are contractions, sweet sister." Sef said. "How long have you been feeling in pain?"

"An hour or so…" She said.

"What brought that on? She is not due for another two weeks." Darim said suddenly anxious.

"The leopard trying to kill her could have caused her nerves to start labor. Or it is just time." Sef said.

"Mother said first children often come late." Darim protested.

"That is if they do not come early." Sef said remembering several of the assassins speaking about their wives having babies early. Most of the time the children were robust and healthy meaning the woman miscounted the months since her last cycle. Rarely, children came early from the womb too early and even less often came full formed and dead, stillborn. Maria had told Sef that gauging when a child would come into this world was trying to judge where the leaves of fall would land in the courtyard.

Darim looked up at his wife.

Sef moved them briskly along and Darim kept an eye on his wife. He leaned close to his brother. "She is in pain again." He said.

They were not far from the town.

"She has been in pain three times." Sef said. "This has been going on longer than an hour."

"How do you know?" Darim asked. "You are not a healer?"

"I have studied under one just as you study commanding and Amal studies archery."

Darim realized he was grateful he had had Sef with them. "Thank you, brother." He said.

"For?"

"For helping her. I would be lost."

Sef nodded taking the compliment.

They entered the town.

They quickly made it to the fortress and Darim lifted his wife down. As her feet touched the ground she gripped his shoulders in pain and cried out as she bent forward against him. Darim looked at Sef and bent picking the shaking girl up in his arms.

"Can you find Aziz, the midwife, and mother?"

"Father too?"

"Yes." Darim nodded. "And…"

"I will handle this brother. Go!" Sef said.

Sef nodded and took the horse toward the small hut where the herbalist made many of the concoctions that would help the assassins.

"It hurts, Darim. Make it stop." She whimpered.

"I would if I could." He told her kissing her brow.

As her pain eased she looked up at him, her eyes wild. "The herbs….we need to get them to…"

"Sef is already handling it. Relax, my love." Darim said as he carried her to their rooms. He could not believe she was worrying about the herbs at a time like this. She was crying softly as he held her. She was so light for him to bear even as pregnant as she was.

He laid her on the bed and she rolled to her side crying out in pain. Tenderly he stroked her back, at a complete loss as to what to do. He was startled when she rose and began to walk about the room. Perhaps it was nerves and she needed to move. She leaned far back with her small hands on the small of her back as she waddled about.

After sometime she cried out again bending over. Darim was at her side gently taking her hand in his and feeling her squeeze. He was grateful for letting him help and partly feel the pain she was in. He had been told there was nothing like this that a man would experience and the first child was always the most painful. Childbirth was a dangerous time for a woman between blood loss, infection, fevers, and exhaustion – all could kill them.

He watched her straighten and take a shaky breath. He smoothed her hair and looked at her damaged arm he held. It was bleeding still, he could see red on the bandage, but it was the lesser of the concerns at the moment.

There was a knock before Sef, Aziz, and the midwife from the village walked into the room. Aziz and the midwife walked to the girl. Darim let go of her hand and the gently had her go to the bed. Darim join his brother away from them, near the door, but Darim watched as they lifted her dress to her knees as she laid back with her knees bent and her feet on the bed.

The midwife nodded and moved to gather her tools. Darim and Sef went back to the girl who was panting as another contraction hit her. She growled and Darim shook his head and bent to kiss her brow. It was sweaty and it was furrowed in concentration.

Aziz allowed her to get up and move as he placed thick clothes on the bed and watched as the girl walked supported by her husband and brother-in-law. The Ibn-La'Ahad brothers cared deeply for this girl. They spoke to her in quiet tones to try to keep her calm.

Altair looked in the open door and noted the controlled chaos of the room. Maria moved passed him and took control of the scene. Behind her came the midwife and Amani, her young assistant.

Maria gently walked to her sons as Amal battled another contraction. "You must leave now." She said softly, but firmly.

Sef nodded and kissed Amal's brow. "Come brother, this is women's work."

"I can't leave her." Darim said.

"Yes, you can." Sef said.

Darim looked at his brother, dark eyes narrowed, "Imagine if it were your wife. Would you leave her side?"

"If I knew mother would throw me out of the room by physical force is necessary, yes!"

Amal looked up in panic. "Darim…"

Darim looked at his father who nodded to him. He took a breath and turned to his wife. "Be strong, Habibti." He urged. "I am just outside the door with father and Sef." He pressed a hard kiss to her lips before turning and walking away before he could not.

Amal gasped. "Darim…no…please…don't leave me!" She cried.

Maria hushed her and gently held her as Sef pulled his brother from the room. Darim stood leaning against the door. "How do you do this?" He asked his father. "She is so young and in so much pain…"

Altair sighed and sat down on a bench. "It will get worse before it gets better. She will cry out often." He said remembering Maria cursing and crying out for him in almost the same breath.

Darim sat down beside him and rested his arms on his knees as Sef leaned against the wall. "Why must it be so hard for them?"

"The child is large and their hips are narrow." Altair said. "You were a challenge. Not as much as Sef." Altair looked up at Sef ruefully. "Sef was turned backwards and came feet first into this world."

Amal screamed.

Darim covered his head with his hands as he leaned forward. "I can't take this for long."

"You cannot help her, my son. You would be in the way of the women who know what they are doing." Altair said trying to be reasonable.

Darim shook his head.

ZzZ

It was past midnight and Darim was fighting down his panic. "How long does this take?" He asked his father.

"As long as the child decides." Altair said spreading his hands. "You were a long labor as well. Your mother's hips are narrow just as Amal and you were a large boy when you came."

Darim shook his head.

Amal screamed and cried out for Darim, begging him to come and make it stop. Darim leapt to his feet and made for the door. His sire, though older, was still remarkably fast and stepped before the younger man even as Sef came and took his arm as well.

"No, my son." Altair said.

"She needs me. She cried out for me and I am here useless."

"You would be equally useless within and in the way." Altair said looking at his son as he pressed his hands to his chest.

"Father…she…"

Altair could see his elder son was nearly undone by his wife's sobs and cries. He embraced him. "She will be well, my son. She is strong. Stronger than we know."

Darim stepped back and swallowed hard. He nodded. "I can only hope."

Altair nodded.

ZzZ

Dawn's early rays of light were coming in through the window at the end of the corridor. Darim had taken to pacing. He stood looking out the window, his arms folded watching the stars and the first glow of the dawn.

Altair was on his feet. "Darim." Sef was beside him and they both were looking at the door intently.

Darim turned. It was eerily silent and he stepped forward and then froze as he heard the wail of an infant behind the door.

Altair smiled as Darim bent over looking suddenly overwhelmed. "It is over, my son." He said.

Darim looked up relieved and a touch pale.

The door opened to reveal Aziz who smiled. Behind him was Maria holding a small bundle in her arms. Light was coming in behind her from the open window. Amal was resting as the midwives moved about cleaning.

Aziz smiled and nodded. "You have a healthy baby girl, Darim." He said. "Your wife is well also, though exhausted."

He offered a hand to Altair before leaving the family. Maria stepped forward and revealed the small girl who was shifting in her arms a bit. Her eyes were not open and she appeared to be resting. Altair well knew birth was trying on them also.

Darim looked down at the small bundle intently and then kissed her soft brow and put his hand on her head a moment. She was so small and yet perfect. He looked at his mother with tears of joy in his eyes. She smiled. "Go to your wife." She said softly.

He nodded mutely and walked into the room looking for a moment at his wife on the bed with fresh sheets.

Maria looked up at Altair who came to his wife. He took the small bundle with the ease of a father and held her close looking at his first grandchild in wonder. "She is perfect, Maria."

"Yes." Maria agreed. "And beautiful."

Darim gently knelt on the bed and touched his wife. Her hair was sweat-fouled and her face pale, but she looked at him a moment. She smiled at him. "We have a daughter." She said softly.

"I know. She is beautiful. Like her mother." He bent and kissed her softly. "You are so strong my love. Thank you for our child." He said.

"I love you." She said.

"I love you, too." He said nuzzling her gently as the cool breeze came into the room taking the smell of blood and sweat out.

Altair came into the room as Maria moved to close the window. He smiled at his son. "Come, my son, hold your daughter."

Darim sat up and took the small bundle being so careful with her as though she were glass.

Altair chuckled. "She will not break, my son."

"She is so small."

"She is actually large for a newborn." Maria said. "She is smaller than you were, but larger than Sef."

Sef walked into his room. Darim held his daughter in the crook of his arm and looked down at her as he leaned against the headboard and looked down at his wife in great affection.

"I will return." Altair said.

He left with a smile. Darim held the soft bundle gently and watched as the little girl yawned. Amal leaned up to look at her and Darim shifted so she could see their daughter. The girl had a thick mop of dark hair on her head, which according to the old wives' tales had caused Amal's sore stomach for the last month of her pregnancy.

Maria smiled. She remembered Altair's face when he held Darim for the first time. The look of deep love almost made Maria's heart melt. Sef came over and looked down at his niece who was looking around sleepily at the two men who were looking down at her.

"She is beautiful, Amal. Clearly she gets that from you."

Darim rolled his eyes and scoffed.

Altair returned with the cradle he had carved. He had placed the soft blankets inside it and placed it beside Darim. Darim looked at his father. "You made this father?"

"Yes." He said straightening. "You child must sleep somewhere safe and warm."

"Father…it is beautiful." Amal said looking up. Altair smiled and leaned over and kissed her cheek.

Darim smiled and shifted and laid the tiny baby on her back. She made a little noise and shifted in her swaddling a moment before she settled and soon slept.

Maria smiled. "They are exhausted. You two come with me." She said lifting her hands to shoo her youngest son and husband from the room.

"I will stay." Altair said sitting down in a chair next to the cradle. He gently rocked it with his foot as he watched his granddaughter rest.

Maria sighed and knew she was not going to get him from the room.

Darim settled with his wife and nuzzled her before they both slept.

ZzZ

Darim woke to the sound of a piercing wail.

He looked at Amal who had woken also and looked about in confusion.

Altair was standing cooing to his granddaughter in his arms as she whimpered. He looked up at the pair. "Ah, good you woke. She has been hungry for the better part of an hour and now is having none of my distractions."

Darim chuckled. Altair was being so patient with the tiny sobbing creature.

Amal sat up and Altair brought the tiny thing. Darim shifted and moved behind his wife to support her. Amal was wearing a loose chemise and she bared one breast and gently cooed the baby and the baby nuzzled with her tiny mouth until she found her aim.

Amal's eyes closed in an odd ecstasy as she fed her daughter for the first time. Darim sat behind her as the baby whimpered a little and suckled.

Altair smiled and touched the tiny head. "There my little Al Zahra." He said. "I told you, it would come soon."

Darim looked lovingly down at his wife and child. Altair smiled at the family.

Darim noted someone had attended his wife's arm. It was bound with poultices and clean clothes as she held the baby in her other arm watching her nurse. To Darim and Altair there was nothing more serene.


	14. Family (1213-1215)

Hope – Chapter 14 – Family (1213-1215)

Altair was sitting in the shade of a fig tree watching his young granddaughter sleep. She had been wiggling like a maggot around and chewing on her toys for a while before she fell asleep under her watchful grandfather's eye.

Altair would sit four hours watching the baby breathe and sleep. She occasionally moved in her sleep and snored softly. He took it in stride finding an odd peace watching her so relaxed. It did his soul well. As he was nearing fifty, he found it was the small things such as watching the baby sleep, nurse, or even time where he could watch his son's family together gave him a sense of purpose. All he was doing now was to help his granddaughter's world later.

Amal, Altair's daughter-in-law and mother of the little infant who lay by his leg, had been in bed for nearly two weeks while she recovered and then moved about with hesitation for another couple of weeks. Darim had been at her side often and Altair came to see her and the infant every day. Sef was also there most days to see his niece, though at Amal's insistence he had begun to court a girl from the village so he would often go down to the village and give her flowers and sweets as his brother had done to win over Amal.

Majida had just turned three months and she was growing like mustard. Though still very small, she had gained weight and inches. Altair spent all his free time with his grandchild. When asked by Amal for his reasons he said simply that he had not had enough time with his father and he wanted the girl to know she was loved even though her whole family was assassins.

Amal and Darim came to Altair bearing a basket with them. They sat down, careful not to disturb the sleeping child as they joined the Mentor. Amal served her father-in-law, then her husband, and at last herself.

"She always naps so well with you near, father." Amal said looking at the sleeping infant.

Altair smiled as he cut into a fig with a knife. "She loves to listen to my stories too."

"I think it is more your voice father. You could talk about the weather and she would smile for you." Darim said.

"Al Zahra knows a good tale, my son."

Darim chuckled. The nickname was the same nickname Mohammed has used for his young daughter Fatimah. It meant, "The illuminated" and it did seem to fit. The infant watch watchful and would often try new things such as her new talent of reaching for her feet when she lifted them up.

Amal had just finished her dried meat when Majida woke and looked around with a whimper. Altair smiled as Amal reached for her and a small blanket to cover herself as she continued to eat a slice of salted meat she held. She then looked down as she put the blanket over her, blocking the view of her bared breast for the infant could nurse. She never did this within her room, much to Altair and Darim's joy, but she did out where others could see. It was calming for the two men to see the baby take her nourishment from her mother.

Once settled Amal eat more of the thick bread and lifted the blanket to look down at the small infant as she suckled. Darim smiled and looked down at his daughter. He smiled as he chewed and kissed his wife's cheek as he lifted his hand to the small foot.

Altair ate his fill and sighed. "Thank you for the lovely lunch, daughter."

"Small payment for watching Majida while Darim and I patrol."

Altair chuckled. "Having you both safe is payment enough." He watched Amal bring her out from under the blanket. Darim moved to take her, but Altair shifted and held out his arms as he took a small cloth. "Let me take her." He said.

"You are determined to spoil her, aren't you father?" Darim said.

"You are still eating as is Amal. I am finished." Altair said standing. He placed the cloth on his shoulder and began to walk around the garden gently patting her back and humming to her.

Amal smiled at her husband. "You have plenty of time with her in the evenings. Allow your father his time." She said watching Darim as he finished his dried meat watching his sire moving slowly in a circle.

He looked at her. "She is my daughter."

"Jealous?" She asked.

"No, but…"

"Let him have his time." She said softly patting his thigh. "No harm will come to her with him and it puts him at ease."

He nodded slowly. "You are correct, my love."

She smiled and then beamed as the baby's burp was heard by all present including the guards who were watching with amusement as their Mentor walked around with the baby against his shoulder dripping saliva from her mouth onto the cloth, Altair had remembered to grab unlike the first time when she had spit up some milk onto his robes.

The little baby then snuggled up to his neck and closed her eyes as she breathed in the comforting scent of her grandfather. Altair smiled and rubbed her back more as he felt the small breaths against him. Darim looked up at them and chuckled. The great Mentor of the Levantine Assassins was so in love with his tiny six kilo granddaughter and she had him completely under her spell.

ZzZ

Majida was nearly a year old.

Summer was bright and warm. Amal was sitting in the courtyard watching Darim teaching some new novices how to dodge and parry attacks. Majida cooed as she rolled on the blanket and began to crawl toward the ring, hearing her father's voice.

Amal moved and scooped up the small baby who squirmed and protested even as Amal hushed her and moved back to the blanket to distract the baby with a toy.

Maria came out of the hall. The guards bowed to their matron and continued to walk about. She walked to where Amal was bouncing the little girl who was wearing a loose dress and wearing a hat to protect her delicate skin. Amal tossed her just out of her hands and the baby squealed happily.

Maria shook her head and smiled. "She has to be the most spoiled child on earth."

Amal smiled. "Yes, but we love it, don't we, little one."

Maria sat down. "Her Jaddah has to say she has grown tremendously." She said smiling. Amal passed the girl to her grandmother and she instantly tried to Maria's cross into her mouth.

"I cannot believe she will be a year next month."

"It is amazing how time flies when you have a little one, does it not." Maria said. She made a face and the girl laughed.

"Mother." She said by way of greeting.

"Have you thought about having more?" Maria asked not looking at her.

"I am beginning to suspect I am pregnant again."

Maria looked at her. "Why do you say this?"

"I feel…off again." Amal sighed. "Please, don't tell the men until I am ready. I have not had it confirmed…"

"Naturally. Why make them anxious before you are ready." Maria smiled. "God be praised. Between you and Sef's little girl we will have many grandchildren."

"Sef is not married yet and he is still courting Karima."

"I have seen how he looks at her. Just as Darim is looking at you now."

Amal looked up and saw Darim watching her as he leaned against the post of the training yard.

She smiled and blushed a little. Darim nodded to an older novice to take over for a moment as he walked toward his wife. Maria allowed the tiny squirming baby go and she crawled eagerly toward her father. The pair of women shook their heads as they tiny bombshell moved quickly in the grass toward her aim. Darim saw her coming and stopped allowing her to come to him, knowing he was her aim. She often crawled to Altair or her father when they were around and it made both men smile.

Darim chuckled as he watched her come to him and then used his greaves to pull herself up to a standing position. She wobbled a bit and he bent down and scooped the little girl up. He straightened and she laughed at him.

He growled playfully and smothered her with kisses making her giggle and squeal happily. "Ab…" She gurgled at him. He smiled perching her on his arm as he straightened and walked forward. For such a powerfully built man, one who could use his strength to win a battle or duel, Darim was remarkably gentle as a father. It had been often remarked by some of the assassins that the man's two weaknesses were his wife and daughter. Both he treated with such care and love it was beautiful and serene.

He squatted down beside Amal and his mother. "Mother." He greeted as his daughter began to make noises at him and he looked at her. "What are you doing little bit?" He asked.

"We went to the stables. She is making cow noises." Amal explained.

He chuckled. "I see."

Amal lifted a water skin and he drank from it as he set his daughter down on the earth. She began to crawl elsewhere and Darim looked where she was aimed and chuckled to see that Sef was walking into the fortress with Karima's hand in his own.

He grinned as she saw Majida crawling toward him and he moved to scoop her up before she was stepped on adults not expecting a tiny baby on the loose. "Hello, little bit." He said smiling at her as she cooed at him and reached for his face.

"She is beautiful." Karima said reaching to touch her.

The baby giggled and hid her face in her uncle's arm. Sef tickled her and she laughed and squirmed. Darim smiled and kissed his wife before returning to his novices. Sef returned the baby to Amal despite her protests.

ZzZ

December was a full month for the Ibn-La'Ahad family.

Sef had come and asked for Karima's hand from her father Malik three days before Christ mass. Sef then called his family together as well as Malik to witness asking Karima formally to marry him when they both were of age. He seemed very sure about this fact after watching Amal and Darim marry far too young.

Malik and Altair had been standing together smiling as they realized this would unite their families. They had watched the pair court from the balconies of the fortress and had been speaking often on the match. Malik had originally thought it would have been Darim marrying his daughter, but now Sef would be her life mate.

Amal stood beside her husband smiling. She was again heavily with child and Darim held her gently. The baby was sound asleep in her cradle near the fire. Maria stood next to the cradle, gently rocking it as she watched.

ZzZ

Malik stood on the looking at the window.

"You always watch." Altair said smiling as he walked to his friend. Once Malik had been a rival and had been very bitter against Altair when he had lost his left arm and his brother. Altair had been arrogant and ignored the Creed. Malik had taken years to become a friend to his rival once more, but now was recalled from Jerusalem as the Bureau Rafiq to serve as Altair's second-in-command.

Malik turned slightly to him. "Sef has befriended my daughter well." He said nodding as he looked down at them moving quickly to avoid the storm that was blowing in. "I have been told she is joining you for dinner."

"I treasure the time with her as I do with Amal."

"Amal I have heard has taken to throwing things in her confinement."

Altair chuckled. "Only at those who had angered her."

"The child is restless then?"

"Yes. Far more so than the last." Altair said.

Malik looked at the Mentor. "She is a good young woman, even if she married early."

"I did so to protect her from the Templars." Altair said.

"You have said this, but as to why…you have never said."

"They seek her. They murdered her family because of the secret she contains."

Malik nodded. "Karima has spoken about you. She says you have been teaching her the wisdom of the elders."

"I only have taught her what she wished to know, Malik. She will be the wife of an assassin and has been curious."

Malik lifted his hand. "I am not angry, my old friend. She just never asked me."

Altair chuckled. "You are her father. A young woman will try to keep things from her father." He folded his arms. "Amal also has her own secrets."

Malik nodded, pacified for the time being.

ZzZ

Leena was born on the twelfth day of Christ mass, to the joy of her grandmother.

Darim welcomed his new daughter and held her so Majida, who had been very curious about the new baby could see her sleeping. The elder daughter of Darim and Amal had been very curious when they had told her about the baby in her mother's belly. Thinking the baby was a doll, she did not understand why her father would not allow her to play with her as she chattered.

Darim shook his head and put the tiny new baby in the arms of his wife before bending and picking up Majida. "It is time for you to go to bed, my little one."

"No! Baby dolly here." The eighteen month old said in protest.

He shook his head. "She is not a dolly, she is your sister. Come, you can see her in the morning."

Majida frowned, but allowed her father to carry her away.

Sef and Karima had come in to greet the new arrival and had already left. Maria had been there for the full twenty hours that it had taken for the baby to come into the world and so was exhausted and had been taken to her rooms by Sef.

There was a soft knock at the door. Darim had returned after putting the elder daughter to bed and had been sitting on the bed speaking to his wife as he rocked the now well-fed infant daughter. She was asleep and softly snoring.

"Come in." Darim called.

Malik opened the door.

"Malik." Amal greeted.

Malik stepped forward. "Amal, greetings." He said smiling.

"What brings you here?" Darim asked pleasantly.

"Your father was called away to Damascus to attend the funeral of the Rafiq." He said. "I came to inquire as to the health of the mother and child as acting Mentor." He said. Amal and Darim had been told this and so had not expected a visit until Altair returned and demanded time with his newest grandchild.

"We are well." Amal smiled. "Come closer Malik. Do you wish to hold her?"

He stepped closer and Darim lifted the baby from her crib. Malik sat down and Darim placed the infant in his good arm. Malik smiled a little, but his eyes moistened. "This is a little bittersweet for me." He said softly.

Darim looked at him. "Why?"

"My wife was taken from me when she gave me Karima." He said softly. He looked at the little girl and pressed a kiss to her brow. "To see Amal and the child well gives me hope." He said softly.

Amal rose from the bed. Her movements were awkward and hesitant, but she still made it to the best friend of her father-in-law who was watching the infant with a soft smile as she slept.

"She is beautiful." He said softly.

Amal nodded and thanked him.

Darim took the baby back as Malik offered and he rose to his feet. "I am grateful to have been able to hold her and see you well, Amal. It gives me…peace…I am not sure if this is the right word, but I am feeling more tender about the times I had with Amanda now and not as bitter at her loss."

Amal impulsively hugged Malik.

He was startled and stiffened, but the hugged her back with his remaining arm. Amal was genuine in her emotions and the man appreciated it when he had been near her. She looked up at him. "You will soon have your own grandchildren."

"Yes, but not for another few months." He smiled.

"Come to see Majida and Leena is you wish. I have not seen you smile so much in ages." Amal said leaning up to kiss his cheek.

He pressed a kiss to her cheeks. "I am starting to see why Altair holds you with such affection."

She smiled and blushed as her husband came behind her and helped her stand as Malik bowed to them and left the room. She looked up at Darim. "He seems always so lonely."

"He is." Darim said. "It is good you are helping him."

She nodded and he helped her back to the bed.


	15. Bonds that will never Break

Hope - Chapter 15 – Bonds that will never Break

Sef and his new wife, Karima, had settled into the life of the fortress.

Sef had married her on a crisp evening in the fall. His wife had been taken under the wing of Maria and Amal. Together they sat together often in a room and balled yarn or worked on blankets or clothing for children. Karima had only come within the castle walls when invited by Sef and always in his company. She had lived among the Assassins for nearly a month and felt like an outsider.

Karima found being with someone her own age to be a blessing and so had bonded well to her new sister-in-law which both Sef and Darim encouraged. Darim had become accustomed to the young dark haired woman being in his rooms holding one of his children or playing with them.

He would reclaim the other and hold her while he spoke to his wife. Sef would often arrive to reclaim his wife, but often they would share a meal. Karima had become bolder, partially to do with Amal and Maria's influence asking for a larger room for her and Sef for when the children came. Altair agreed to this.

Altair was preparing to spend more time with his "girls" as he called the daughters-in-law and the granddaughters. Winter was always a time of stories and lessons. He had started to allow Majida to draw. Her fingers would often be black with charcoal, but well worth allowing her mind to grow, according to her grandfather. Though many of her drawings were hard to grasp, Altair patiently admired her work and had them all over his study.

Malik commented that id Majida committed murder she would need only bat her eyes at her grandfather to be forgiven. Amal just shook her head at this.

ZzZ

Darim and Sef returned from a patrol in the hills.

Both shook snow from their robes as they walked into the fortress. At twenty-one and nineteen, they were both powerfully built men as their father had been in his youth and still was. No one would question their sire's prowess of ability as an assassin, though by sheer physical ability, Darim was both taller and stronger, but had his father's dexterity and his mother's charm and grace. For such a large man, he could move soundless when tracking game or a target, a skill few mastered. Like his wife, the beautiful now sixteen year old Amal, he had become adept at not only close combat, but had mastered the crossbow as well, though his wife preferred a bow and arrow.

Due to her own rank, she would stand watch on the battlements of the fortress. Her winter clothing kept her warm, though she would often shelter away from the wind to keep her skin from becoming too cold.

The pair were both only one rank from master assassin and as such were given harder tasks than many of their peers. Some of the novices though their rank, until they were able to associate with them, had come from Altair as a blessing. However, just the opposite was true. The pair had had to prove themselves much more worthy than the others due to the fact they were Altair's children and he refused to hand their ranks to them. As such members of their own age and those of higher ranks had a deep respect for them.

It was February and the snows were deep, taller than a man in many places. Through the middle of March was when the heavy wettest snows fell. After these, spring would come followed by summer and a short fall season before winter again was howling in the passes.

The brothers were surprised to find that their wives were not in their rooms. Startled by this, they walked to their father's study. No one was there. Curious, they walked to their parent's rooms. There they found Maria, Amal, and Karima having tea and chuckling at a private joke over tea. Amal was holding yarn in her hands as Karima balled it. Maria was knitting something as she sat at the fire with them.

Majida and Leena were asleep together on the small pallet in the next room next to the bed of Altair and Maria. They would at times stay there the night when their parents had night patrols or were sent as couriers of messages to the towns under the Levantine Assassin control where they held Bureaus.

Darim smiled and walked to the fire to warm his hands as Sef went to his wife and stooped his tall lithe frame to kiss her as his hand went to her midsection. Everyone present knew of her delicate condition, but few others outside the family circle did. He smiled and straightened before offering a kiss to his sister-in-law on her cheek as she leaned forward. He and Amal had been close and Karima smiled. Like Darim there was no jealousy in her heart for her husband had a confidant and one she full trusted.

Darim turned his mother and kissed her cheek before going to his wife. She smiled up at him. He kissed her and then looked about. "Where are our daughters?"

"Sleeping." Amal said.

"Altair sang to them." Karima said. "They always calm to go to bed when he is near them."

Sef chuckled.

Darim shook his head and sat down on the floor next to his wife and pushed his cowl back.

Maria watched her sons with their wives. Her sons were silently listening to the chatter of the younger women as though the sound was like music. Many men would have found such discussion boring, but they pair now just seemed to wish to be nearby not caring if the women took notice or not for now.

Sef was sipping a cup of tea, likely his wife's cup, and watching the fire crack before him.

"Where is father?" Darim finally ventured when there was a lull in the female conversation.

"With Malik. Templars have made an advance in Jerusalem. They are planning on how to address it and drafting a letter to the Bureau leader." Amal said.

Darim nodded.

After an hour Darim rose to his feet. The ball of yarn was completed and the women had taken to then speaking about the gossip around the fortress. He patted his wife's shoulder. "Come, wife, let us retire." He said.

Amal looked up and smiled.

Maria was asleep in her chair. Amal nodded to her and Darim nodded.

They crept into the bedroom and retrieved their children. Darim carried the elder. Majida was a tall child for her age, but was practical skin and bones. She, however, could eat more than many teenage boys. She snuggled into his body heat and he smiled kissing her brow. Amal held Leena gently and the little girl continued to snort softly.

The pair put their daughters to bed in their own places in their chambers. They both slept well near the comforting warmth of the fire, Leena in her cradle (which she was nearly too big for), and Majida, on her small pallet.

Darim kissed them both and watched them settle as he watched his wife move about. He too removed his robes. Amal sighed and sat on the edge of the bed brushing her thick hair. She had left it down all day, but it was tangled from Leena playing with it and pulling on it. Darim came to her, shirtless, and sat down taking the brush from her.

After a few moments he spoke. "When do you think we should tell the family?"

"Tell the family about what?" She asked.

His hand dropped to her midriff where the chemise was covering the small swell there. "This little swell." He said nuzzling her ear.

She was stunned. So he had noticed. She had not said a word about it since she wanted everyone to enjoy the baby that Karima carried. She did not wish to steal from her sister-in-law's moment of glory. "I hadn't noticed." She said.

He turned her head to him. "Yes, you have." He said. He searched her eyes. "Tell me true." He said.

"Yes, husband. My courses started three months after I gave birth to Leena and stopped in January." She sighed. "I was hoping I was just late at first and they would begin again."

"Why?" He asked.

"Karima should be in the spotlight now as the new daughter-in-law."

He pressed a kiss to her mouth. "My beautiful dove. Always everyone before your own happiness."

"I am happy that she is happy." She shrugged.

"When will our baby come?"

"October." She said. "Or at least I think so."

He nodded. "Sixteen months after Leena."

"Leena is two years and six months younger than Majida." She pointed out.

"Yes." He smiled. "The more the merrier while we still have the stamina to keep up with them."

She giggled and he kissed her again and then time was more insistent as he started to pull at the ties of her chemise. Even though they had been married for five years, they were often still like newlyweds in how they smiled and flirted wait each other. Amal allowed her husband his advance and sighed in pleasure as his mouth followed as he exposed flesh.

"Darim, you do not play fair."

He chuckled against the flesh between her breasts. She had a woman's body now and was even more alluring for her husband. He looked up at her as he kissed the small mole that only he knew where it hid. "I use every advantage I can." He said.

"I should be doing that, being as I am smaller."

"Oh?"

"Yes." She shoved him backward onto the bed and he tried to sit up and she pushed him back, smiling down at him. "Charm isn't everything. A woman flat on her back is at a disadvantage."

"Perhaps." He said looking up at her. His dark eyes swirled with love and lust as he reached for her fleshed out hips. She still had her lithe form, but she had curves now. Curves he liked to explore and… Her hands covered his, stopping him from pulling the chemise up.

"Hummm…I like this." She said running her tongue over her teeth as she pressed their groins together through her chemise.

He growled. "Vixen." He muttered as he sat up with her in his lap kissing her and nipping at her lips.

ZzZ

Karima's labor was short compared to many women and she only spent an hour pushing. Maria and Amal had been surprised at this. Amal was very pregnant in August. She had been miserable in the heat and spent much of her time enjoying the spray from the waterfall.

The daughter who was born was small, but healthy.

Sef had been present for both Amal's labors and had been shocked by his own wife's short labor to bring his child into the world. Altair just smiled and clapped Malik on the back as his friend welcomed his first grandchild and Altair's third. Three girls.

Karima was happy with her daughter, but felt she was a disappointment for not giving her husband a son. Sef was quick to try to convince her otherwise. Altair commented, when he went to greet Karima that a grandchild was a grandchild and if the mother and babe were healthy, he would take twenty daughters over a son who had death take him or his mother.

ZzZ

Abbas looked out at the village. He was the officer of the watch this night. The days were becoming shorter.

Malik walked out beside him. "Greetings, brother."

"Dai." Abbas greeted formally. "I hear congratulations are in order for your first grandchild being safely delivered."

"Insha'allah, Karima and the babe grow stronger every day." Malik said with pride in his voice. "Soon they will greet the assassins."

"Have they picked a name yet?"

"Noor."

"Light. Fitting for a female child."

Malik nodded. "My wife would have approved."

"Your wife was a Germanic slave girl. What would she have known about our ways?" Abbas cocked his head. "She had trouble learning out tongue."

"Given time I would have taught her." Malik said, his eyes narrowing.

"Perhaps."

"Love is a curious thing, Abbas. It is amazing what one can do when one puts their mind to it. Take for example Amanda. She could communicate well enough and knew to ask questions."

"She never spoke to me." Abbas looked at the second-in-command of the assassins. "I tried to befriend her."

"Perhaps it was because she knew she would be wasting her breath."

Abbas shook his head. "Or perhaps you gave her far too much credit as she warmed your bed."

Malik looked at him hostilely. "I freed her. She came with me by her choice. When I asked her to marry me, she agreed, though I would have understood if she denied me. She was a good enough person to love me for what I am, even though I am not whole. She was never my whore; she was my wife before we ever shared a bed. She was a good an honest person. Through her I have a daughter and now a granddaughter. She lives on and I will always love her for showing me that even a cripple could find happiness, even if it was all too brief."

"Perhaps she exchanged masters. Love is a cruel one."

"You know little of the emotion, Abbas, I am surprised you would speak so."

"I know love only hurts you in the end." Abbas said sneering as he looked out into the night.

"It is the greatest gift and greatest burden." Malik turned to leave. "Leila Sa'eeda." He said curtly and walked back into the building.

ZzZ

The middle of October brought a harsh northern wind that brought an early snowstorm and as it arrived Amal was seated at her window looking out as the snow began to fly. There was something in how she was caressing the swell of her belly that caught Karima's attention. Her sister-in-law had brought Noor and was breastfeeding her as she watched Amal who had not moved from the window seat since her arrival. Karima had recovered faster from her delivery as well. Maria had commented it was because with only an hour of hard labor her body had not been taxed as many women were.

"Are you in pain?" Karima asked walking to Amal's side and touching her arm gently.

"No, not yet, but it will be soon. Perhaps later today or tomorrow." Amal said.

Karima nodded. She looked out and saw what Amal had been watching. Sef and Darim were dueling with novices watching. Though Sef was the more agile and lithe of the pair, they had spared so often they knew each other's strengths and weaknesses allowing for a sporting rivalry in the dueling ring. The last one Darim had won, but only by a very narrow margin.

Karima watched her as Amal touched her swell and watched the pair. Something was in Amal's head, Karima had well learned that look from her best friend, but did not wish to share it yet. Karima sighed and looked down. "We will have bruises to attend tonight."

"Indeed." Amal said. She rose to her feet and moved to go investigate a paper her husband had left on his desk. She tapped her four fingered hand on the wood as Karima soon her head.

"You are very distractible today, sister." Karima said.

"Your pardon, were you speaking? I was miles away." Amal said lifting her head.

"No, but I have never seen you act this way before."

"I have." A male voice said.

They both turned to see Altair at the door. "Father." They greeted. Amal rose to her feet slowly and bowed.

"May I come in?" He asked.

"Need you ask?" Amal asked looking at him.

"It is always the better part of valor to ask permission of a lady than to have her scream about the invasion of her space, daughter." Altair said.

"I suspect such wisdom comes from some degree of experience, father?" Karima asked.

He chuckled. "Does not all wisdom, child?" He came into the room and shut the door behind him. "Are you well, Amal?" He asked coming toward her. "Is your time near?"

"I believe soon, father." She answered.

He nodded.

ZzZ

That evening began Amal's third labor, but this one was different.

The onset was far for gentle. She had been walking back toward her rooms with Darim. She had paused and commented that she felt a twinge, but it was like the small labors that Aziz called false labor. There was nothing like the first two that had nearly taken her to the floor in pain.

There was not as much pain as before and she was not progressing as much as she should have been. Though her water had broken the child was not crowning even as the sunset on her first full day of labor. Though not uncommon for a birth to last hours, even minute was more and more dangerous for the mother and child.

Darim, Altair, Sef, and Malik were all outside the room waiting. They could hear the women speaking together, but there was none of the normal yelling, screaming, and words of encouragement.

By the dawn of the next day it was becoming clear that something was amiss. Altair had left to go to his study. He took the Apple from where he kept it safe and touched it, letting the Light fill his mind. He had to know what was happening. He had never used it to see the future before and he focused his thoughts on his beloved daughter-in-law.

What he saw made his heart skip a beat. "NO!" He cried.

He had returned nearly at a run holding the Apple in his hand. Darim looked up at his father. "Father?" He asked. He had never seen the look on his father's face. It was a mix of panic and grief.

Altair shook his head. He went to the door and opened it.

Maria looked up from where she was perched by the bed. "Altair! What in God's name are you doing here?" She barked.

"Amal is dying." He said, his voice belaying his panic in a mask of calm.

"What?" She asked. "No she is resting. The pains are not terrible yet."

"They should be Maria. It has been a full day and a half."

"She is…."

Altair walked to Amal's side. He looked at her and touched her face. She was sweaty and ashen. She was not resting. Her chest barely rose and fell as she breathed very shallowly.

"Amal?" He asked gently.

Her face turned to him. Her eyes were haunted, her lips parched, and the look she gave him, he knew she knew she was dying. "Father…" she managed. "So sorry…"

He shook his head and lifted a hand. "Hush my dove." He whispered. "Save your strength." His hand went to her swollen belly and touched it. He closed his eyes and swallowed. "Darim!"

Darim appeared and Altair leaned to him. His son clearly was not comfortable being there. "Listen to me. Amal is dying. To save her, I must cut the child from her womb."

"But…" Darim gasped. This was rare and often only done when the mother was already dead to try to save the child. "Amal…" He gasped turning to her.

Altair gripped his son to gain his attention. Darim looked at her. "The child is dead, Darim. I must do what I can to save, Amal."

Darim looked at him startled. He then nodded seeing the Apple. "What can I do?" He asked his mouth dry.

"Call Mailk here. You and Sef remove Karima, the midwife, and your mother."

Darim nodded mutely. He took a breath to steel himself. He looked at the other two men at the door and nodded to them. He walked to them and put his head between them to speak to them both. Malik looked up in horror and Sef closed his eyes. Only a few women were known to survive this and if the removal of the child did not kill them, a fever could.

Sef walked to his wife and pulled her from the room and dragged the midwife as well after speaking words to her. Darim turned to his mother and wrapped his arms about her as he pulled her from the room.

"Altair!" Maria screamed, "What are you doing?!" She gasped as he lifted a knife. She looked up at Darim as he pulled her from the room. "You can't seriously allow him to do this. It will kill her!"

Darim stood quivering. "If he does not try she is lost to us anyway, mother." He said grimly. "The baby is dead."

"How does he know?"

"The Apple." Darim said. "I do not know its power, but it anything can save her, it is that artifact." He took up a position by the door and closed his eyes in his own grief.

Maria shook her head. "He puts too much trust in that thing."

"If it saves her life, I do not care what he does mother." Darim said looking at her.

Inside the room Altair moved about gathering hot water from the fire, the blankets, and his knife. Malik stood back. "This is foolish, Altair. If it is Masha'allah to take her, who are we to fight it?"

"I have to try Malik. Would you not do the same if you had a chance to go back and save Amanda?"

Malik looked away. "You know I would have done anything to save her including giving my own life."

"I cannot stand idly by when I can attempt to save her."

Malik nodded and walked to where the girl was watching them. She looked like a ghost she was so pale. "What would you have me do?"

Altair lifted a leather strap. "Have her bite this and keep her as still as you can."

Malik nodded as he watched as Altair held the Apple and closed his eyes. He gently looked at Amal. "Bite this, child." He said.

"Will it hurt?" She asked softly. The plaintiveness to her whisper made his heart ache.

"Yes." Malik said sadly as he kissed her brow. "Be strong. You have to live." He said softly.

Altair looked up. "Are you ready?" When Malik nodded, he allowed its power to flow through him. Taking the knife, with his eyes closed, he with only slight pressure. Malik watched both amazed at the power of the Apple and horrified by it.

Altair, guided by the Apple reached into his daughter-in-law as she cried out against the strap between her teeth. It was muffled, but she arched in pain and Malik leaned close his arm on her. Time seemed to suddenly stand still as he took a hold of the baby's shoulders and pulled it out. It had been in the birth canal, feet first, but was too large to pass. Altair laid the baby on a blanket and then turned back to Amal. The Apple allowed him to remove all what needed to be removed. A blinding light was then emitted from it and it closed the wound leaving a thick line, but no blood after thick dark blood came from her as he pulled the child from her. The skin was red in color which was good. Blood flow was there.

As Altair set down the Apple he took a breath to steady himself. The Apple had taken much from him in terms of energy and he was nearly exhausted, but it Amal survived it was well worth it. He turned to the baby. The full term boy was blue in color, his eyes shut. Altair carefully washed him in the water and though he was warm from womb, he was not alive. Everything about him was perfect from his nails to his small tuft of hair, to his eyelashes like snowflakes resting on his blue-grey skin.

For whatever reason he had died in Amal's womb, whether it was because of the long delivery or other factors, the boy did not make it. Altair swallowed hard. The first boy of the next generation.

Mailk looked at Amal, who had fainted, the strap had fallen from her lips and had been nearly bitten through. He touched her throat. She yet lived, though was weak. Altair gently then placed poultices on the wound to help her heal. If they kept it from putrefying she would survive, but it would take time to recover physically and then mentally dealing with the loss of a child she had carried for many months.

He took an unsteady breath and looked up at Malik. "It is done." He said.

"The child?" Mailk asked.

"Stillborn. Male." Altair said softly. Altair had carefully swaddled the boy as though he yet lived. He almost looked as though he were sleeping. Almost. There was no rise in his chest, and the haunting blue color to his skin made him almost ethereal looking. Altair shook his head and kissed the small head. The infant's skin was cool to the touch. He shook his head sadly.

He rose to his feet and stumbled, but caught himself on the end of the bed.

Malik was there and put a steadying arm on him. "Come you are exhausted also. Sit." He said nodding to the chair nearby. "I will fetch Darim."

Darim shifted as Malik opened the door. He looked anxiously at his father's friend. "It is done. Insha'allah all is well."

Darim looked at him. "Amal? The child?"

"The child is stillborn. Amal is resting."

Darim nodded and followed him into the room. Mailk stood back as Darim went to his wife's side. Darim reached to touch her, but his hand faltered. "Does she live?"

"Yes." Altair said lifting his head. Darim noted how weary his father looked.

"Father? Are you hurt?" He asked.

"I will be well, my son. The Apple draws energy from the person holding it in order to share its secrets." He sighed. "If Amal survives, the small bit of pain and exhaustion will be a small drop in the ocean of my time on this earth."

Darim looked back at his sleeping wife. "The Apple does not know if she will survive?"

"The Apple will share what it will, my son."

Darim stooped and brushed a kiss to brow before turning his attention to the small infant that Altair had so lovingly bathed and wrapped in the blanket. The baby appeared to be sleeping, but as Darim lifted him, his blue colored skin made it clear he was not. Hesitantly he looked over the boy who was clearly full term, but had died within his mother for unknown reasons. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at Malik.

"I am sorry, Darim."

"This will all be worth it if my wife survives."

"I pray it does. If I could have had a second chance with Amanda, I would have given my own life to the Apple just to see her smile again and playing with Karima."

Darim nodded.

Several hours had passed.

Amal woke and looked about a moment. Darim was seated next to her. He smiled at her. As she tried to speak, he hushed her.

He leaned close. "Do you wish to hold our son?"

"He lives?" She asked. The hope in her voice made him look down in sorrow.

"No, my love." He said sadly. "He died." He took a breath. "It will allow you to see him before we take him to the Crypt of our ancestors. They will protect him."

She looked at him and tears ran from her cheeks, but she nodded.

He tenderly laid the small bundle beside her watching her carefully as she looked down at the perfect boy. "He is so perfect." She whispered.

Darim sat beside her on the bed and nodded, his hand covering hers as it laid on the baby's chest. "It was not to be, my love. Masha'allah." He said.

She nodded and closed her eyes. "Alhamdulillah." She whispered.

He bent and kissed her cheeks as her tears came in earnest. "Please…Please don't cry." He whispered nuzzling her. His own eyes were moist. "I cannot stand you in pain."

Her eyes opened. "Make sure he has all the rites." She said, her voice hoarse.

"We will, Habibti." Altair said from where he was resting by the fire. "He will be near my father and mother."

Darim pressed a kiss to her lips. "Stay with me, Amal. Please." He whispered. "I am no one without you."

She looked up at him and smiled a little, though it looked a bit like a grimace. "I am always with you, Darim." Her eyes closed and she again slept. Darim laid a hand on her breast to assure himself she yet lived. Her breathing was shallow, but she was alive.

ZzZ

They buried the small boy at dawn.

Amal was too weak to attend and so they had allowed her to rest as the others gathered.

Altair, who had recovered after nearly a day of rest, Darim, Sef, Karima, Malik, and Maria were all gathered to bury the baby with his ancestors. Altair laid him in the crypt beside his grandparents' remains. Altair's mother had died giving him life and Umar had been executed for killing one of Salāḥ ad-Dīn's guards. His remains had been given back to the assassin's for burial, a courtesy that was not often given, but the leader well knew the assassin had only done what he had to do and so had forgiven him after he had seen justice done.

Maria stood silently. She had not spoken to her husband since he had gone into the room and had her son remove her.

The rain that was falling was cold and made them all wet and cold. It was as though the very earth was weeping.

After the funeral, Sef went on patrol around the fortress allowing his brother to return to his wife. He heard a soft sound and turned looking about as the rain pelted him. He drew closer and realized there was weeping from a pile of straw.

He dug inside and found the small young toddler named Majida, his niece who was three, nearly four years. "Little one, what are you doing here? In the rain. You could catch your death."

She whimpered as he sat her up and he realized her leg was broken.

"What have you done?" He asked looking over her leg. It was swollen and she was weeping.

"I wanted to be an assassin like mommy and daddy. I wanted to fly."

He looked up and saw the window above them, three stories up. This had was kept for a higher leap from the tower above, but it was surrounded by wood. He realized her small body had hit the wooden piece not having the slightest idea how to do a Leap of Faith.

He carefully lifted her up and carried her to the hospital wing. She continued to speak to him. "If I did it, maybe God will help mommy."

"Who told you that a Leap of Faith would do that?"

"Grandma said it was as God wills it. Prayed. Jump. Prayer answered." She said.

"Someone so small should not be out at this time anyway."

"Daddy with mommy. He said she is weak and hurt." She frowned. "Wanted to help." She looked at him. "Does daddy not love mommy anymore?"

He shook his head. "He loves her very much, as he does you and Leena."

"Then why did he curse God."

"He is also angry."

"That make God angry. Pray." She said.

"Your grandmother has made this very clear to you I can see."

"The Bible helps with letters."

He shook his head at her and laid her on a bed in the wing. She had broken her major leg bone near her hip in her fall. It was clear from the bruise pattern that she had landed on that rather than the hay. Normally a move only done by full assassins, the girl had tested her faith.

Sef looked up as Altair came into the wing after he had summoned him.

"Father."

"What has she done?"

"A Leap of Faith."

"At three?" Altair blinked.

"She wanted God to save her mother."

"Blind faith will never give you the answers you desire."

"No, but mother's influence may make it so she will never walk again." Sef said.

"Oh?"

"Her Bible lessons made Majida think to attempt this."

Altair shook his head. He looked up. "We will not speak of this to Amal for now or even Darim until we must. They have enough to worry about."

"Very well father." Sef said.

He looked back at the girl as she laid there watching all. The gaze they well knew. Amal often watched the activity about her so. Aziz took little time to befriend the tiny girl before he set her leg and bound it. The girl had screamed and then fainted from the pain. More the better.

Altair sighed and looked at his son. "We are luck it was a leg not her neck."

"Blind faith will always lead you astray." Sef said.

Altair looked up at him. "For once, I see you do listen to my tales."


	16. Recovery – 1215 – 1216

Hope - Chapter 16 – Recovery – 1215 – 1216

It was nearly Christ mass before Amal was able to rise from the bed for more than an hour or less. The whole of the Ibn-La'Ahad family took turns watching over her. She slept many hours as she recovered. They began to wonder if she would not make it to spring. She ate only enough to survive, but would eat more with her husband's coaxing at times.

Maria and Karima were often at her side when the men came from their patrols or lessons.

Darim had been elevated through the council to a master assassin and now not only trained the novices, but also trained others. He was sent on missions by his father, but always returned. Amal had grown used to having the family near and their daughters with her as she slept.

Darim came into the room and found that the family had left to go have supper in the main hall. He sighed and moved to remove his winter outer clothing when he noticed that the bed was empty. He blinked and looked about and found his wife standing at the window, looking out at the falling snow.

"Amal." He said coming to her.

She turned to her husband looking up at him. "Darim." She whispered.

"Are you well?" He asked looking her over.

"Yes." She said. "I wanted to see the snow." She smiled a little and looked back out. "It is beautiful this time of year."

He wrapped his arms about her. He had not seen her smile in months and it brought him hope and comfort that she would recover.

"Darim, how am I still alive?" She asked.

"Father…he used the Apple. The knowledge and power it wields…" He looked at her and pressed a hand to her abdomen. "Are you in pain?"

"No." she said shaking her head. "My memory…I do not remember what happened?"

"The child died." He said. "We had to cut it from you. Praise to God that you did not die along with him."

She took a breath. "Are you angry?"

"With you?" He cupped her head. "How can I be angry with the woman I love more than my own life?"

"I lost your first born son." She swallowed. "How can you forgive me?" She looked about. "How can Altair forgive me?"

"It was not to be." He said shaking his head. "No one is at fault. Father and I know this. This is why we agreed to save you." He looked at her softly.

She looked down and he pressed a kiss to her mouth. He intended it to be a brief kiss, but instead she pressed against him and held him close as he continued to kiss her. He pulled back breathless.

"There you are." He smiled at her.

She looked at him curiously.

"I have not seen the woman I married in a long time." He embraced her. "I had missed you so much."

"Darim…" she whispered her voice breaking, but her tears refused to fall.

"I know." He said. He let his own tears fall.

ZzZ

Amal was walking around the fortress by February. Her husband was with her as often as he could be. She had recovered well and was slowly putting on weight. She had lost much of her body weight due to her recovery.

She had never fully mourned. She had not gone to the crypt. She had refused to be anything, but stoic about it. Even Darim had wept over the loss of his son. He could not imagine the pain she held within her soul.

Her husband, Sef, and Altair had spent their time having her eat small meals through the day. Slowly she was gaining her curves back and her strength. She had been forbidden from doing assassin errands until she could fight hard and well. For now, to keep her mind active, Altair had her once again as his secretary and accountant. Amal kept the books better than any other and Altair was happy to see that everything was flourishing.

Darim lowered his hood to reveal his short cut dark hair as he entered his rooms where his wife was reading to his daughters. At twenty-two he was a very attractive man and many women who did not know him would flirt with him or try to win his favor. In Masyaf and the surrounding area, it was an honor to have a daughter chosen by an assassin to be his bride and bear his children. Darim resisted the charms of the women, but would speak to them still.

Darim smiled as he walked and knelt down beside his small family. His daughters crawled into his lap as he sat down. He smiled fondly at them and their mother. He was a proud father and he well knew he would soon be making sure his daughters were being courted by the right sort of men.

"You have come just in time." Amal said. "I was putting them to bed."

He smiled and lifted one in each arm. Majida was able to walk again, but her gait was awkward looking. Thankfully her personality and beauty would win over a man. Malik was proof that a man or woman could find love even with physical issues. She would forever have a limp and there were days it was worse than others, but often she was able to be with the children her own age.

He laid them on their pallet together and kissed both before returning to his wife who was sitting before the fire. He sat down beside her. He looked at her hair and gently tangled his hands in it, letting his fingers comb it out.

Her eyes closed in pleasure and she leaned towards him, laying her head in his lap as he continued.

"You are so strong." He whispered. "You never gave up." He said softly. "I feared and prayed, but you remained." He said gently.

She turned her head to look up at him. "Yes. I had to." She said.

He smiled and carefully lifted her in his arms so he could kiss her. She lifted her hands and began to work on his tunic she shifted to kneel between his long legs. His own hands reached up and pulled at her own robes and he pressed her back against the rug before the fire as he shifted over her.

Her body had recovered well, but for the thin line on her abdomen where Altair had cut the child from her. He kissed the spot softly looking up at her as she shivered. His acceptance of the scar made her feel better about herself and he continued to kiss and lick her skin as they undressed each other.

He shifted between her legs and looked down at her. "Are you sure, habibti?" He asked.

She knew full well he needed her, but she also knew if she told him she was not ready he would stop and hold her. She smiled up at him and pressed a kiss to his mouth as she lifted her hips against his.

He sighed as his control slipped some. His hands caressed her body as he entered her. He had planned to be gentle. This was the first time they had been intimate since the loss of their son. He was not gentle as he buried himself to the hilt within her body with a groan. It had been too long. She gasped and when he looked up alarmed she smiled and shook her head before wrapping her legs about his hips and her hands went to his powerful shoulders.

They looked at each other even as their pleasure overrode all their senses. Darim gasped as he felt his wife clutch him in her own climax and he moaned and let his head drop as he collapsed onto her body. She held him softly, enjoying the closeness. Her hands caressed his powerful back and he sighed in pleasure.

He lifted himself from her and looked down at her. "I love you." He whispered.

"I know." She smiled and touched his face. "I love you so much, Darim."

He smiled and lifted her to carry her to their bed where they could snuggle together and embrace. He laid her down and crawled in behind her wrapping his body around her own as they both looked at their daughters sleeping.

He nuzzled her affectionately. "They are such joys and angels." He said. "Do you think we will have more?"

"You want more children?" She asked looking at him.

He smiled. "As many as you are willing to give me." He said.

She looked at him. He was telling her the truth. He was not angry with her at all for the loss of their son. "You mean that." She said.

"Of course." He said. "Why would not wish more children?"

"I lost your first son."

"Through no fault of your own. Allah willed it, my love. I am hoping he will another baby as well. For you to have another child to hold and I another chance at a son." He smiled. "Also the boy was lost to us…not just me. You have felt pain as well."

"You really wanted a son."

"I really want you to be happy, Amal." He said. He kissed her and nuzzled her neck. "You should not be in self-loathing."

"I thought you and Altair would be angry."

"If I would have lost you, I would have cursed God."

"You do not mean that."

"Yes, I do." He said. "You are my wife, lover, and best friend, Amal. I love you more than you can ever know and if I ever had to give my life to make sure you lived, I would."

She stared at him and then tears came to her eyes. He held her and kissed the tears. "Darim…"

"Cry my love. You have not cried and mourned the death of our son. Let it go so we can move on. We will never forget."

She sobbed and he held her to him and he knew that it was at that moment she realized the extent of the love that they had. He held her gently and comforted her as he held her to him, whispering soft words of love to her.

ZzZ

Amal was given an assignment. She needed to recover some of the Templar manuscripts that would allow her to track their monetary movements. She was to eliminate the bookkeeper and then take his books for they could find the remaining Templar hideouts.

She went to Jerusalem. She used her skills as an assassin to gather the information she needed. She had to gain the permission from the Assassin Bureau leader to eliminate the target. A Master or Dai took his orders from the Mentor himself, but this work needed approval. It was expected.

Amal climbed up to the roof entrance of the Bureau and walked down into the building. It was very non-descript for a reason. It was part of the blending so that Assassins could shelter there. She walked down into the main room and then down to the Rafiq's study. It was evening after she had spent the full day after her arrival gathering information mostly by eavesdropping, though she had also used informants.

Malik was no longer the Bureau leader, Abdullah was and she did not know him as well as she knew Malik. She knew there would perhaps be others here, though she saw none. She outranked many in the order, but the Rafiq, as a graduated scholar, was higher than her as an Assassin. The Masters or Dais and the Mentor were the only ones who outranked the Bureau leaders, though the Rafiqs well knew the code and how assassinations needed to be done to preserve it. She greeted him as she walked into the room. "Greetings brother."

"Sister. Ahlan wa sahlan." He smiled. The Syrian girl was beautiful and at sixteen she had the body of a woman and through the assassins the wisdom to understand things far passed her years. She was small as she stood in her robes which were much like Altair's, long and fluttered in the breeze. Her husband preferred the shorter robes, but had decorated it with the thicker sash of a Master and he could carry any weapon he wished. She wore a niqab as she often did when she was away from the fortress of Masyaf. Her green eyes watched from the slit at the bridge of her nose. Her cowl sat back when she wore this so she could see her surroundings clearly. Amal, the daughter-in-law of Altair himself had been chosen for this task. It suggested she had ability that few possessed other than she was female and a beautiful one at that.

"Ahlan bekum. I have gathered information about Rashid." She said. "I need only to gain him alone and kill him. I plan to do it in his office where his books are kept."

"When do you intend to strike?" He lifted a book from below the counter. He liked this girl. Often the assassins would forget their place, but she well knew her place and almost appeared defensive. He personally liked the idea of having women in the order. Women had charms that men could not use up to and including their bodies which held power over men. It was a dangerous game and playing games such of that could lead to a brutal death if uncovered.

"When he takes his tea. He is alone and it will be a clean kill." She said. She lowered veil and hood and he saw her full face for the first time with her dark green eyes. She could stop a man dead in his tracks by her looks. Perhaps this was why she covered to keep her face from becoming a distraction.

"Good." He smiled and handed her a white feather. "Ma'assalama, Akht." He looked at her. "As always you may use the Bureau for your needs if you are in need of food, shelter, weapons, or rest."

"My thanks. Assalamu alaikum, brother."

"Walaikum assalam." He smiled at her.

ZzZ

Amal held the feather as she sat in the small room. She planned to strike in the morning. This man had taken Assassin books into his possession, but also his own records would prove to be valuable to help her father-in-law's cause.

She laid down. It felt so alien to be in a bed without her husband. She sighed and laid back looking at the moon though the thatched window covering.

The next day Amal woke and looked about. It was early yet.

She walked down and found some food for her breakfast. The Rafiq was already there breaking his own fast. He looked up and smiled. "Sabah alkhair." He greeted.

"Sabah alnur." She smiled at him. "May I join you?"

"Of course." He said. He nodded to a seat beside him.

She took bread and ate quickly. She then rose to her feet and replaced her veil and pulled her hood up. Her eyes were piecing under the cowl as she checked her weapons. He looked up with her. "Altair must be proud of you."

"He is the only father I have known." She smiled. "With your blessing I will go remove the blight."

"You have it. Return to me when you can, Akht." He watched her turn, her robes whipping about her body. The white robes looked like feathers and he now saw why she had been named "The Dove", by Altair, but others referred to her so as well, though perhaps not to her face. She was a peace bringer through her assigned targets. She wore trousers like any male of her order under her robes and thick boots and thick leather greaves. Tucked into one boot was a knife and just below the knee of the other were throwing knives. Along with her sword, hidden blade, belt with more throwing knives, and her small quiver that held her short bow and arrows, she was well armed and perhaps this dove was the most lethal of all.

She bowed and went to go up to the roof to leave for her assignment. She moved quickly along the rooftops toward her target's home. In the early morning she was a glimmer before she disappeared. The house was not stirring yet as she squatted above the courtyard.

Below were three men. She knew one was Rashid. She needed to wait until he was alone to kill him. They were speaking. She moved closer so she could hear.

"They are fair trade priced, Rashid. They will be taken, if they survive to the Sultan's castle."

"I am aware."

"The women you have bought from Nubia will also be arriving soon enough." The other said.

"Good, my friends. Leave me now." He said.

The pair left and the man Rashid moved into the house. Amal went to the other side of the courtyard and dropped down, her robes fluttering. She landed one leg beneath her and the other knee up taking the impact. She lifted her head looking around as the dust settled about her. Rising she noted no one was there and she looked about and moved to a pillar to hide behind.

She moved forward as she noted there were three guards she needed to avoid. She walked along and as she ducked into a side door to avoid being seen she heard a cry behind her. She turned looking down the stairs.

She walked down the stairs looking about. At the bottom were several boys, chained together. All of them were not yet men and they looked unfed for days. She moved cautiously into the room. She then saw boy leaning to the side. She gently touched his face. He blinked and looked up at her. She put a finger to her lips and looked at his neighbor who was watching her silently.

"What is this place?" She asked.

"Hell." The boy answered.

She looked at him as she drew her water skin and gently pressed it to the lips of the boy who looked ready to faint again. "Why?"

"Boys are taken down those stairs and they never return. Others are brought up, but they are no longer boys." He said softly.

"What do you mean?" She asked leaning closer.

"They make eunuchs here for sale."

"You are boys. Children." She hissed.

"Yes. We were either sold to these men or we were found on the streets and no one will mourn us if we die."

She swallowed as bile rose in her throat. "Rashid. He is the leader of this?"

"No. He is the bookkeeper from what I have heard." The boy said. He lifted his thin shoulders. He was about fourteen, nearly her own age, but smaller from malnutrition. "They tell us if we survive we will lead good lives, but we are no longer to be men."

She nodded. "What is your name?"

"Tariq." He said softly. "Though I am as nameless as any here."

"I will return." She looked at the younger boy who could not be older than six. "Keep him safe." She whispered.

She heard a guard and moved quickly to the shadows. She pressed a finger to her lips as she jumped up and hung upside down over the heads of the guards and a man who was walking before them. He selected a thin youth who could not be more than twelve. The guards unlocked him from his bonds and then dragged him after the man. The boy whimpered, but made no other noise.

Amal dropped down and looked to Tariq. "You are to be castrated. All of you?" She asked.

"Yes." Tariq said.

She shook her head and then cringed as she heard the cry from below. Angry, Amal walked up the stairs. She waited for the guard to pass and then climbed to the roof. She sat watching. While she watched for more than an hour, she learned that the mastermind was named Kasim, Rashid was his bookkeeper, Timond was the guard captain who enjoyed using his whip on anyone he could much to the disappointment of his master, and lastly Asmon, the butcher who maimed, tortured, and killed the innocent boys.

She stood as the sun became high and vanished. One of the guards thought he saw something, but passed it off as a trick of the light because as he looked up again, nothing was there.

Amal made her way back to the Bureau. She dropped in from the roof. Again finding the Bureau deserted she walked down the stairs to find the Rafiq. He looked up startled. "You work quickly, sister." He said. "Though you seem troubled."

"This is worse than we knew, brother." She took a breath. "To eliminate the stain of the Templars working in this district I must kill four men."

"Four?"

"Rashid is just the bookkeeper. He has the books I require, but they are also dealing in the lives of innocents."

"In what regard?" He asked.

"They are buy and stealing boys to make into eunuchs." She swallowed. "I have heard the practice is barbaric."

"Yes. The boys, if they survive are no longer men. In fact they are neither male nor female. This all hinges on whether they can eliminate the poisons from them. They do die. Why would Templars be dealing in the flesh of eunuchs?"

"It is a good way to make money. They are valuable to the east. I know the Sultans use them to guard their harems and they also are used as guards for households that have women."

He nodded. "How are you planning to rid the world of these men?"

She smiled a little, her eyes dancing. "I am a woman. They are men."

"That is a dangerous game, Amal, and well you know it." He stepped forward. "You husband would not be pleased."

"My husband will not need to know and I not intend to let any of those vipers near me anyway."

"A woman on her back is at a distinct disadvantage, Sister."

"That is what you think, brother." She said. She spread her hands. "When a man is thinking about bedding a woman he is distracted and easier to kill."

He sighed. "Clearly you have thought this over." He cocked his head at her. "I do not like the idea, but I am sure you are right that it is the only option we have." He lifted a book. "What will you do with the innocents? Free them?"

"Yes, and bring them to Masyaf. We are always looking for more to have as novices."

He chuckled. "Perhaps the heart in this is why no other women have been brought into this order. You think too clearly about the lives of others and have not as much regard for your own."

"As a mother, I well know the risks." She said.

"Altair will need to know about this."

"So send word." She said.

"Very well. Safety and peace be upon you sister."

"And to you, brother." She said bowing.

ZzZ

She waited until sundown. She walked down the hall. She had found clothing she had stolen from a local dancer. She had left coin and dressed in the scant clothing as she made her way to where Kasim had retired. She had spent the afternoon learning where each of her targets made their beds.

She knocked on the door smiling at the guard who looked her up and down almost hungrily.

"I said no one was to…" Kasim froze looking at her as he opened the door. "Well, hello, child. Where did you come from?"

"A gift." She smiled. She winked. "From some of your merchant friends."

He nodded and ushered her in. He smiled at her and looked her over. He followed as she led him to the bed and she sat down. He growled and he moved to her. She giggled and moved away coyly. "Oh, you play hard to get?" He asked.

She squealed and moved away. He laughed and ran after her. She pretended to be out of breath and dropped on the bed grinning as he came behind her and pulled her face to him to kiss her. She allowed it as she sat back on his groin. He smirked and tossed her off before lying down and pulling her on top of him as he pulled at his clothing.

She smiled and leaned down and looked at him. She pressed her left hand to his mouth as she looked down at him. Smiling she twisted her wrist and her hidden blade buried itself in his face. "Rest in peace." She hissed before climbing off him.

She pulled the covers over him and shifted him so it looked like he slept even as she closed his eyes. They forever held horror and the knowledge he had been betrayed. She carefully washed her hand in water to remove the blood before she then rolled her eyes. Knowing the guards would be outside listening she leapt on the bed and rocked it rhythmically. She could hear the stifled laughter outside. After a few minutes she stopped and got down to sit a moment.

Shaking her head she reflected on life. So fragile.

She walked to the door and opened it just enough to allow her to come out. She smiled at the men. "He is sleeping." She whispered.

One of the guards grabbed her and she fought the impulse to sink her blade into his throat as he kissed her. She pressed back. "No, no. I was only bought for the master."

"But he always gets the beautiful women." The guard said.

He pouted and she looked at the other guard. "Perhaps soon you could both buy me." She suggested.

They nodded and let her go.

She made her way to where she had stashed her things. She pulled on her clothing feeling like she was again wearing clothing. She had felt naked before and nearly was. She soundlessly moved through the area of the courtyard. She saw her next target, Timond, standing near the top of the stairs that led to the bowels of the underground.

She listened. He had dismissed the other guards and stood the first watch. She waited for a few moments. The man let his guard down slightly and she leapt down plunging her blade into his chest. Her momentum sent him backwards and he tumbled down the stairs with a muffled cry. She followed as he landed in a heap.

She stood before him. She closed his eyes. "And so you too die." She said.

She heard voices. She noticed Tariq watching her and the other boys watching with fear as she rose to her feet. The younger boy was not beside him. He looked at her. "Where is he?" She asked.

"I tried." Tariq whispered. "They…"

There was the terrified scream of a child and then a wail of pain. Amal took a deep breath to calm herself. Anger clouded the issue. She moved down the stairs. It was hot and smelled of blood, sweat, and fear. She looked about and as she rounded the corner she met with two guards. She silenced one with her hidden blade. The other tried to stab her, but she was too quick. She landed a powerful kick to his knee as she dropped to the ground using her other foot to break his leg in the process. Crying out he dropped hard and she stabbed him in the back.

"What is going on here? Guards!" The butcher cried seeing her rise. She looked at him. "Who are you?" He asked.

"Death." She hissed and she leapt into the air. The light from the forge made the butcher think he was seeing things until she landed before him and as he swung at her with the still cooling blade she disarmed the man and drew her own sword and put it to the man's neck.

He yelped and fell to the floor. "I beg you. Spare me."

"Your hands are red with the blood of the innocent." She said. She dropped to his level. "Did you show them mercy when they cried for it?"

"The master made me do it."

"Your master is dead." She said.

"How?"

She smiled, but there was no humor in her eyes. "I killed him when he tried to bed me."

"You are a woman." He said surprised. He reached up and pulled down her veil.

"What are you doing?" She hissed recoiling a bit and knocking his hands away.

His hands dropped and he actually smiled a little. "I want to see what the death bringer looked like when he came for me. I never thought it would be an angel. The Angel of Death."

She stabbed him in the heart, a clean death. He dropped before her. She looted the body for a key and found one. She shook her head and leaned to close the man's eyes. He looked calm as though he welcomed death. Perhaps he did.

She then moved to the boy who was strapped to a chair. Blood oozed from his poor body and he had bitten his lip clean through. Thankfully he was unconscious from the pain.

She removed the straps and felt the boy's neck. He yet lived. She lifted the small body in her arms and carried him up the stairs. Her robes were bloody, but not from any blood of her own. She bent down and freed Tariq who was looking at her in awe.

"Free the others. I have one more before my task is done. Can you keep them quiet?" She asked. "Watch after the little brother."

He nodded. There were only a half dozen boys there.

She moved quickly up the stairs and climbed the wall to Rashid's chamber. The man was at his desk going over accounting. He had a cup of tea beside him. Amal walked to him from behind from the window. Clapping her hand over his mouth she leaned down to his ear. "Know this, I came for you and your books." She said softly. "That was before I leaned the blood the books are stained with." She leaned to his ear. "You trade in the lives of innocents. I will spill your blood here to make sure this ends."

"It will not end." The man hissed under her hand. She heard him. "There will be others." He said.

"Then I will kill them as well." She drove her hidden blade into his throat through the chair.

The man gasped and slumped forward against his arms. Amal put the feather to his neck and then gently lifted it looking at it. She then looked about.

She collected the books she needed to track the whereabouts and funding of the Templars. She also found the books that had been stolen from Altair. Carefully she put them in a sack and lifted them. There were only four, but they were large tomes and so heavy.

She jumped and landed in the courtyard. She saw Tariq at the top of the stairs watching. She motioned to him. He held the small brother in his arms and the group of Amal and the six urchins made it to the main gate.

Amal walked forward to the guard who was looking out at the street. She jumped and landed on the man driving her hidden blade into his heart from behind. She then beckoned the boys to follow. They went out the small door to the right of the gate and were onto the street.

She moved them to an alley. "Now. You are free." She said looking at them. "You may leave and live here in Jerusalem or you may come with me join me and live as a brother."

Tariq looked at her. "I would come with you Angel." He said.

"We all will." The eldest boy said. "You freed us. We will follow you."

She nodded. "Come then." She said. She moved quickly toward the city gate. Amal had bound them together just for a time. She managed to gain passage on a caravan. Once out of the city she would free the boys and they would travel along to Masyaf.

ZzZ

It took some time to reach the town in the high hills of Syria.

Amal and the boys were riding in a cart. Amal worried for the smallest, young Bahij. His name meant cheerful and when he was drugged enough on milk of the poppy to be lucid without pain, he was cheerful and a delight. He was still bleeding lightly from between his legs and he was yet to urinate. That was her greatest fear. Already his skin had developed a yellow color and she knew perhaps he would die. She prayed not.

She and the boys moved from the cart as it arrived at the bottom of the hill leading to the fortress. They walked up the stone steps in the high walled area to the main gate which was opened. Tariq held Bahij to him and looked up. "Look brother we made it!"

Amal paused when she noted it was Altair himself who was there to greet her. "So, it is true." He said by way of greeting.

"Father." She bowed.

"These children. You rescued them."

"Yes." She said looking up at the taller older man. "One is badly in need of care."

He looked beyond her. "They all do." He nodded to a guard nearby. "Take them to the healer wing and see they are washed, deloused, and fed."

"Of course Mentor."

Tariq paused. "Mother Angel?" He asked.

"Go on. You are safe here." She said gently. She bent and looked down at Bahij. "You made it little one. Come now and live." She whispered and kissed his cheek.

She straightened as the boys walked passed her.

"More than a half dozen lives." Altair said.

"I was able to free them without alerting guards until after we had left." She lifted the bag containing the books. "And I did my original mission."

He nodded taking the bag and looking her over. She looked weary, but not just physically. Her eyes were older as though she had seen things she never wished to again. That haunted look became the mainstay of a master assassin.

"Come daughter." He said.

He took her to the council room and the council rose. Sef smiled at his sister-in-law.

"What is this?" She asked.

Altair lifted a longer and thicker red sash. "Due to your quick thinking and ability to adapt as well as your embodiment of the Creed we live by, it is the decision of this council to make you a Master Assassin and Dai of the Brotherhood."

She blinked and took the sash. "I did what I felt was write."

"But you did so doing it by our ways." Altair smiled. "Had I had your wisdom when I was in my youth I would have saved myself much heartache."

She bowed and thanked them.

ZzZ

On her way to her rooms to change, bathe, and be at ease, a hand darted out from a hallway and grabbed her. Startled she struggled as lips pressed to her own and she was trapped by a pair of powerful hands against the wall to either side of her. She whimpered, but then yielded to the kiss and the hands trapping her went to her hip and back.

Darim pulled back and looked at her from under his cowl. His possessive nature made her smile. "Darim." She whispered.

"My love." He said. "Are you well?" He asked looking her over.

"The blood is not mine."

"I hear I must now call you Dai as well." He smiled.

She playfully pushed him to the side. "Go away, I need to bathe."

"What if I wish to join you?"

"Have it your way." She said walking into the hot spring room even as she began to remove parts of her robes. She opened the door and moved to close it. He followed her inside and barred the door.

"You are different." He said.

"I watched the blood of innocents' pool at my feet. I had to do something."

He lifted her chin to look at him. "You did well." He commented. "Father saw the merit in what you did. That is why you are now a master."

"So young, Darim. So young."

He pressed a kiss to her lips. "They are safe now." He nuzzled her and held her as she sighed and relaxed against him. He caressed her now bare back. "Abdullah had a tale to tell." He looked down at her. "How far did you go to bring down Kasim?"

"I dressed as a dancer and let him chase me around the room. I was still clothed when I killed him."

He nodded and sighed.

She looked up at him and brushed a boyish curl from his face. "You were jealous."

"No. I just wanted to know how far you were willing to take being an assassin, my love."

"Do you have your answer?"

"Yes." He took her arms and shook her a little. "You are mine."

"Yes."

"I love you. The thought of another man between your legs makes me…"

She covered his lips. "It will never happen, my love. Never while I have a saw in the matter."

He nodded and bent to kiss her. It was clear he needed reassurance and even though she was weary to her soul she allowed his advance knowing they both were in need of the affection, bond, and love the act expressed.


	17. The Mongol Threat - 1217-1225

Hope - Chapter 17 – The Mongol Threat – 1217-1225

Amal stood in the crypt of the assassins.

With her stood Jibril and Tariq, two of the boys she had rescued. The young boy Bahij had not made it. He had died a day after arriving at Mayaf. He was not alone as so many young boys who were made eunuchs were. He had the seven other boys with him, Amal, the mother angel whom had saved them, and Altair, the mentor of the order.

Amal could not save him. She had tried to summon her power to do so, but the fact remained. Even if she was able to cure him as she had on the road to make it to the assassin's home, he would still have toxins in his blood.

Jibril had recounted to Altair that Amal had bleed from her nose and lips for a night after she had saved the boy's life. He could not bear to see that again as she fainted beside her young charge. Jibril was a tall boy for twelve and he had a good arm.

Amal laid flowers on the sarcophagus of the young boy who had died. She sighed and looked at Jibril and Tariq. They both hugged the young woman who was nearly their age though she was older in spirit and wiser.

She took a step to where the smallest of all the sarcophagi was. Between his great-grandmother and great-grandmother was the tomb of her stillborn son. She knew well Umar was watching over him in the afterlife. She laid a flower on the lid and closed her eyes.

"Who is this?" Jibril asked.

"My son." She whispered.

"What was his name?" Tariq asked.

"We never named him."

"He needs a good name." Tariq said coming to her. His young eyes watched the woman he revered above all others. "Mahfuz" He said after a moment.

"Protected by Allah." Amal said. She nodded. "A fitting name for my son."

Jibril embraced her. "Now you can no longer weep. He is with God."

She smiled, once again humbled by the pair. She nodded and they walked out of the crypt into the sunlight. She lifted a hand and pushed them forward. "Go or you will be late for your lessons. Sef will never forgive me."

Altair had been amazed how well the boys blended into the novice classes. The boys were eager to learn and be like the woman that had rescued them. "The Dove" was the name many started to call her around the town. The boys has nothing to lose and everything to gain within the brotherhood.

ZzZ

Altair sat in his office.

He had heard disturbing reports from the al-Mashrīq al-'Arabiyy or the Levant as the Christians had called it and those who had ventured to the Steppes. A fearsome horde, unlike any ever seen was moving like Locusts across the land. The Huns had been defeated once, but now, the Mongols rode with Genghis Khan at their front.

The warlord pressed ever west taking women from villages he conquered, enslaving them, impregnating them, after he ordered the murder of their sons, brothers, fathers, and husbands. He would kill whole villages in order to gain the power of a key vantage point.

Trails of dead and piled skulls were left in the wake of the great Khan. He had to be stopped. It was rumored his sword was gave him the power to move the largest army any had ever seen. It made him larger and stronger than any about him. He had killed many with it and the core, it was rumored, had a thirst for the blood of the innocent.

He looked up from the reports brought to him by pigeons and noted Amal was working on her own work at her desk nearby. As a master assassin now for saving the lives of seven young boys, all whom became novices to the order, she now could sit on the Council as the Finance Councilor. She had only the lives of three men and did not alert the city as to her activities. Like Malik, her husband, and even Sef, her title was now, Dai – or master.

Altair had been impressed and more impressed when she had come being trailed by the children who were saved from a life of misery or if they had not been strong, a very short life ended in pain. She had refused to allow the innocent to suffer being made eunuchs and then a third of them would die from no longer being able to piss. It poisoned the blood and was a painful way to die.

Now the group was studying well under Masters Sef, Darim, Malik, and Karim. Darim and Amal were the first married pair of master assassins and they embodied the Creed well. Both now could carry whatever weapon they wished. Darim used his strength to win battles while his wife was more about subtlety and would use her bow to work together with another assassin to take out a target and his guards. Amal was also the youngest ever to attain the rank at seventeen. She had learned much in so little time. Altair wondered if her skills came from being a Chalice. He had been the youngest to be made a Master until Malik had been made so at twenty-four. However, his sons had been twenty when they were named and now Amal at seventeen. However, the council had voted and named Amal a master for her deeds.

Darim and Sef were happy to have her in their midst. Some of the assassins did not like having a woman with a higher rank than they had. Abbas was one such person, but he had kept it mostly to himself as he watched her be congratulated by her husband and brother –in – law. Altair then smiled and together they performed Leaps of Faith off the tower.

Amal's hard work once she had come home had offered much insight into the Templars and she had well kept track of the finances of the Assassins as well. In fact she had made them have a profit and rolled it over into goods and small loans to the people below. This came back tenfold to the fortress. Altair had been most impressed when he saw how much she had made the city of Masyaf and the Assassins become greater in the world of economics and traders now came from the Silken Road and from the Narrow Sea.

Altair sighed as he walked into the meeting room. Malik, Darim, Amal, Sef, Maria, and the council were all present. He stood at the head and watched them. "We have been receiving disturbing reports about a horde traveling to the west from the east. It has little regard for human life and the land runs red with the blood of the innocent."

Darim looked up. "What do you suggest we do father?"

"I intend to go to meet this threat before he and his horde step foot in the Levant."

"Who will stay here?" Sef asked.

"Malik will be Mentor in my stead until I return." Altair said. "You and Amal will help him guide the Assassins to live by the Creed."

Amal looked up sharply. "You mean to take Darim with you."

"Yes." Altair said.

Amal's hand dropped to her abdomen a moment. The movement was not lost on Maria or Sef who near her. She looked up after swallowing. Sef looked at her sharply and she shook her head stilling the words on his tongue. "As you will, Mentor." She said.

Darim rose to his feet. "Father, both Sef and I have wives and children."

"But you need you skills with a crossbow." Altair said.

"With that logic, you should take Amal. She is by far the best shot." Malik point out.

"The Steppe is no place for a woman." Altair said.

"Maria is going with you." Sef pointed out.

"Only because she would follow me if I did not." Altair said ruefully.

Amal nodded. She rose to her feet. "So let it be done. Safety and peace upon you, Father and Mother." She turned and left.

Altair caught Darim's arm as he moved to follow. "We leave at dawn tomorrow. Say your goodbyes as best you can."

"Yes, father."

Darim followed his wife as she walked to their chambers. The girls were with their cousins and so the room was empty just as Amal suddenly felt. Darim found her standing by the window looking out.

"Amal… habibti…" He tried.

"Did you know?" She asked.

"No. I found out his plans at the same time you did."

"And yet you do not resist."

"I must obey the master of the order, Amal. You know this."

She turned to him. "You are a father and a husband as well as an assassin."

"Yes, as you are a wife and a mother." He looked at her. "As I recall you did not resist when he ordered you to kill and nearly sheathed another man to have my father's will."

She looked at him. "That was different and you forgave me that or least so you said."

"Is it so different? I have forgiven you, but my point is that both of us are powerless to our laws."

She took a deep breath. He was right and she knew it. It would not be well to have him leave with angry and bitter words. "When do you leave?"

"At dawn."

She looked away and swallowed the tears welling in her eyes. "My heart is breaking." She whispered. "What if you are gone for a long time?"

"It should not be long."

"Days without you is too long."

He took her in his arms. "I love you with all my heart. Know that."

"I know." She looked up at him and pulled his face to hers. "Make love to me. Let me forget the horrible truth until the morning."

He nodded and kissed her as he began to work on her clothing and she lifted her arms to work on his robes.

ZzZ

It was an hour before dawn.

Amal and Darim were awake. She had helped him dress in his robes and as she did so, he kept sneaking kisses. Finally fully dressed he stood before her. She sighed and pulled on a robe over her Chemise.

Together they walked down to the courtyard where Sef, Maria, Malik, and Altair were waiting. There were four horses. Three with saddles and saddlebags and the fourth loaded with provisions. Darim took a step to his brother and they moved away from the group for a moment.

"I do not like you leaving her so, brother." Sef said.

"I have little choice and you know it."

"Yes."

"Would you see to it that she is well and look after her and my daughters."

"Of course. She is my kin now. I will guard them with my life."

Darim embraced his brother and nodded. "Thank you."

They returned to the others. Amal was embracing Maria and then she looked up at Altair, her face wet with tears.

"Do not weep, child. We will return to you." Altair said. "I promise."

She nodded and he embraced her. "You have never led me astray, father."

He looked to Malik and Sef. "Guard her well and keep this order strong."

Malik nodded. "I will."

Sef embraced his father and mother. "Safety and peace."

"And to you." Altair said.

The three masters remaining put their hands over their hearts and bowed as Altair and Maria mounted. Darim mounted and looked back as his wife straightened. The wind caught her hair and made it dance as the morning rays were beginning to show. He leaned down from his mount. He pressed a last kiss to her lips. "I love you!" He said touching her cheek as he pulled back.

"I love you!" She answered and watched him move toward Altair and Maria.

Amal moved to the battlements and the other two followed her. Together they stood watching the small group enter the sleepy village and then ride out into the passes that surrounded the city. They were out of sight soon enough and Amal's head dropped and her hand went to her face.

Sef looped an arm over her shoulders and held her as she stood quivering a moment as her body went through several emotions. "You did not tell him did you?"

"Tell him, what?" Malik asked.

Sef's hand dropped to Amal's abdomen where there was a hint of a swell. Amal's hand came over his and she shook her head as Sef held her. He swallowed and nodded. He understood. "I am sorry, Amal. I wish to Allah he could have stayed and I would have been chosen."

Malik's eyes widened. "You did not tell him you carry his child? That is cruel."

"Less cruel than telling him as he left. This way he will follow his father. Otherwise he may have tried to remain and become expelled from the order or worse put to death by Altair's hand for insubordination. No, it is better this way, Malik." Amal said. She turned to walk down the stairs.

Sef looked after her as did Malik. "This will be a long road brother."

"Yes." Malik said.

ZzZ

Six months later Amal gave birth to a healthy baby boy she named Bilal.

Sef had been there with Malik to greet the new arrival. Amal looked at her son with a mix of great love and sadness. Six months Darim and Altair had been away with Maria searching for the Mongols. For six months only one letter had come.

Amal treasured it and kept it in her journal. Darim's script was as beautiful as he was and she treasured his words of love to her. Altair had written to Malik of their progress which had been slow as they traveled across Europe and then Asia to track the Mongols on the Steppe.

It did not appear they would be returning soon.

ZzZ

Maria, Altair, and Darim had been gone for seven years.

They sent letters when they could. Amal, Sef, and Malik sent word back as to the progress of the Assassins. Malik would often tease Amal there were no letters for her until he lifted it from his desk.

Malik himself had become more heartened. He had been invited to join the Saracens for a banquet and he had met a young Nubian woman. She was in her twenties, the same age as Amal, but had been raised to be a bed slave.

The night of speaking to her and the pleasure that followed had convinced Malik to buy her to free her. She was intelligent and well knew the hearts of men. Her name was Fatimah. He bought her and brought her home to the fortress after he married her in Damascus. Everyone there thought him a fool for letting his heart guide him and fall for a whore. However, he saw much more to her and someone he could spend time with at his age.

Being free was alien to her, but she learned the respect she gained from being the Mentor's wife. Amal herself did not know what she was until Fatimah revealed it to Karima and Amal herself. Amal had spoken with Malik and he told her he wished to have a companion who would judge him and could live with a cripple.

Amal had accepted this knowing how lonely the old man was. Soon the young woman was found to be pregnant, a miracle in itself since she had been give herbs to prevent it much of her life. As a free woman she was healthier and had become used to being his wife. Few knew her history and those who did, did not speak of it.

Seeing Malik smile as he walked with her and fondly touched her growing abdomen was enough for Amal and Karima to accept this woman fully into their lives. Sef had been amazed that the pair freely allowed the woman in their circle and even took measures to be with her, but as he remarked to Malik it was a mark of how good of character the two possessed to overlook Fatimah's past and accept her future.

Karima was excited for a new sibling and Malik was happy to have a child coming at all at his age. He was happy to have a child. Though he had thought of his grandchildren, Amal's children, and the boys Amal had brought all as his children, he had always felt having one child of his blood was not enough. He had become a father figure to Amal as well. When he saw how much she craved it.

The Assassins remained strong under the leadership, but something was on the horizon. Amal felt it. It winds spoke a warning of betrayal, but she was too naïve to listen. She dreamed Darim would return to her. She missed him so much. It almost hurt to see Karima and Sef together with their daughters. Karima had borne Sef twin girls four years ago and the two were full of an exploratory nature.

Sef well knew she felt so alone and made a point of spending time with her as did Malik, but it was not the same and they knew it. Soon, soon, they hoped and prayed the three would return and things would return to normal.

As Malik drew closer to being a father again, Amal watched him fondly as he rediscovered love and even gave him advice to help with Fatimah's aches and pains. It made her smile to see how lost of a man he was as though it was his first time again.

Reassured all that was happening was normal, he settled into winter life at the fortress with all those around him. Christ mass would soon be upon them and the laughter of the children made all the adults feel warmer.


	18. Murder - 1226

Hope - Chapter 18 – Murder - 1226

Malik Al-Sayf stood looking out over the village from the battlements of the fortress.

Nine years.

Nine long years he had served as the Mentor of the order while Altair traveled with his son and wife tracking the movements of the Mongol horde. The horde was the most dangerous and at the head a man who had a sword of magic, much like the Apple that Altair possessed. The sword, as Altair had written, fed on the blood of the innocent and with it the great Khan could bend people to his will. Altair feared such power. A lesser man would be driven insane, but a cold and calculating man who led an army was a dangerous foe.

Altair still pursued the warlord as he came ever closer to the Levant. His messages he sent seemed to say his sabotage had led to the general moving away and arching toward Europe rather than going to the desert and high mountains where the movement of horses and an army was difficult.

Darim and Maria were at his side and though Altair, like Malik, was now in his sixties, Malik knew his one-time rival turned friend and ally was now as powerful as ever. Perhaps he did not have the stamina he once did, but the ability and training remained and with a former Templar as a wife and his own son whom he had trained the three were a force to be reckoned with.

Malik took a deep breath. Within the village his daughter lived with her daughters and his wife was with her often learning the ways of the village even as her belly grew with Malik's child growing within her. Malik sighed. Soon, soon he would be a father again, but there was something that he could not put his finger on. There was a change in the order, a subtle one, but one none the less and it troubled him. Malik followed the Creed above all things as did Sef, the son of Altair and Amal, Altair's daughter-in-law.

Perhaps it was not enough…

Malik turned his head hearing a polite cough near him. He smiled as he saw Amal standing there watching him. The petite woman was now twenty-six. Malik had watched her grow from child to woman just as Al Mualim watched Altair grow from boy to man. Malik smiled her a moment before nodding out over the village.

"The calm before the storm?"

"Winter always comes Mentor." She said smiling.

"Yes, it does Dai." He nodded. Her formality made him turn back to her. She stood arms folded over chest. "What is on your mind, Amal?"

"Many things." She said looking out before looking back at the one-armed Mentor.

"I have heard your disciples have tried to best you."

She chuckled. "None have succeeded as of yet, but then again, they were not trained by Altair himself."

"Pinning you, I imagine, is like trying to tie down smoke, sister."

She nodded. "I never thought of it like that, but it is a case of using my smaller frame to my advantage."

"Indeed." Malik smiled. "What brings you here?"

"The breeze." She said. "It was stuffy in my office." She said. "All the old parchments and dust." She shrugged.

He nodded. "I came to clear my head as well."

She looked to the east, the sun framing her as she stepped to the side a little. "Do you think they will ever come home?" She asked putting her hands on the warm stones.

He looked at her. "I hope so. Altair is more of a leader than I ever hope to be. There are tensions that are growing. They are not so severe yet as to voice them other than in passing, but I am sure you are starting to hear some of the discontent yourself."

She took a breath. "Yes." She said. "Allah alim."

Malik sighed. "We must see what each new day brings. Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine." He said. "I will not betray the Creed on superstition as Al Mualim once did." He said firmly.

"You are a good leader Malik. Fair and just."

"I fear at times it is not enough, child." He said looking at her.

She smiled and nodded. "Insha'allah it is." She said.

He dipped his head. "Ma'assalama, Amal."

"Fi aman Allah." She replied. She bowed to Malik and took her leave. Though his equal in the order in terms of rank, she lacked his years and therefore his wisdom in many things. She had grown accustomed to the elder masters calling her "child" or "young one" due to the fact she and Sef both were more than two decades younger than the rest of them. Sef would be in his third decade next year.

She noticed Bilal was out in the courtyard as she walked down the stairs. Her nine year old son was a tall youth for his age. His dark hair and grey eyes made him look so much like his father, Darim that it almost hurt her to look at him. She had birthed him after her husband had left her to join his father on his mission to find, destroy the leader of the Mongol Horde, and take his blade.

He walked to her and smiled. "Mother." He greeted and then bowed to her. As a novice he needed to respect his elder assassin. He was born into the order. His sisters had been given the choice, but had chosen not to learn the full skills. However, Amal had been adamant that they learn at least defensive skills. Women who did not know how to use a sword could still die by the blade and so Sef had instructed Majida and Leena as well as his own daughter Noor to use blades. Though they did not often use them, the elder girls all carried knives for protection and for practical use as did Karima, Sef's wife whom had also gained basic instruction as to survival and protection. Miriam and Maria, Sef's twins were young yet to learn such skills, but he intended to teach them to use a blade as soon as they were able. They were seven and already could ride a horse, another skill that was necessary to survival in the Levant.

She smiled. "Greetings, my son." She said smiling. "What brings you before me?" she asked much like a master, but her eyes were dancing as he looked up at her.

"I was going to give Maj a pendant I made for her." He said lifting the carving in wood. The boy had skill. He had cut the assassin's emblem into a small block of wood and threaded a cord through it.

Amal smiled. "Where are your sisters?" She asked.

Majida was thirteen with light hair and eyes. Her skin was like honey and she could outrun most of the boys her age. Leena was eleven and had Amal's short build, but had the look of Maria with her thick dark hair haunting blue eyes.

"In the village, but Maj said she was going to meet me here when I was released from my studies."

Amal looked up and saw the girl walking towards them. She was speaking to one of the boys who was about her same age. Bilal ran to his sister and smiled at her as she looked at him. He lifted her present and she giggled and hugged her younger brother. The other boy made a quick exit as the siblings began to speak to each other.

Amal shook her head. Her family was very close. They had become that way when Darim had left them. Sef and Karima with their daughters were in the circle and to some extent so was Malik. It was almost a defensive mechanism that her children had grown to look you to Sef as a father figure. He well knew how much they looked up to him and did his best to be both father and uncle to them.

ZzZ

Abbas stood on the parapet looking down into the courtyard of the fortress.

The first snows had fallen in the mountain city of Masyaf. The clouds were hanging around the fortress and though it was not currently snowing, it could at any moment. Swami was standing next to him watching as well. Ever the eager lackey, the younger man was watchful to do his master's bidding.

Amal walked out of the library with Sef at her side. He knew he needed to separate the pair to carry out his plans. They were two of the three most powerful there. With Amal's death the assets would be under his control. With Sef's death he gained a means to an end. He gained a reason to imprison Malik by framing him for the murder of both Amal and Sef and with their deaths Altair would return. Malik was a just leader, but as Abbas saw it, being just was not a strong leader. It was weakness. The order needed strength and as the rumors began to fly that Altair had died and Malik was keeping it from them among other things, it was a time to step forward to be a leader and denounce the weak links to form the order into the strength it once had.

Amal and Sef both stood in his way of becoming Mentor and the most powerful man in the order. Malik would be the next to fall and then Altair, the man he had once thought of as a brother and now seethed with hated for. He wanted the Apple and Altair's head in whichever order they came in. But he would bide his time. His hatred had been at the boiling point for years and now as the assassins were growing restless that their leader still had not returned and Malik would not recall him, it was the perfect to him put into action the plans he had been forming for years now. This hate had driven him to consider breaking one of the unspoken rules of the order; never raise a blade against the flesh of a brother.

Amal stood in the snow smiling as her brother-in-law and she shared a private joke. She was a woman of twenty-six now and though petite was lithe and her face with the narrow features made angels weep. It was a shame she often covered her greatest asset, Abbas thought. It almost a pity to kill such a beauty. She did not wear a cover now since she was within the walls of the fortress, though she often would in the village and when she went on patrol. Abbas felt himself stir as he looked at her olive skin and jaw line, though her emerald green eyes were hidden in her cowl. Her lips in that smile he would love to have kissed, just once.

He took a breath and gained control once more. Now was not the time for such thoughts.

Abbas nodded to Swami and they walked down the tower steps toward the pair. Once they reached the pair, Abbas and Swami both bowed to their superiors. "Dai." Abbas said formally.

Amal dipped her head in acknowledgement. Sef, who looked nearly exactly like his father made Abbas fight down to urge to murder him where he stood and use him as a surrogate for his hatred for his father. The son had done nothing and would only serve as a pawn to the greater game that would soon begin.

"Amal, would you join me?" Abbas asked. "I have a problem I wish to address."

"Of course." She said.

"Thank you, Dai." Abbas said dipping his head.

She turned to Sef. "I will meet you in the market then?" She said.

"I am sure I can amuse myself until you come down." Sef said amused. "Karima is ill and will not be joining us."

"So Majida had told me. Is she all right?"

"Her stomach heaves. I have a suspicion the meat had turned." Sef shrugged.

Abbas feigned concern as he listened knowing full well that Swami had been the one to taint the dish she had eaten from. Not enough to kill, just enough to make sure she did not come and interfere. So far everything was going according to plan.

"Insha'allah, she is well." Abbas said.

"Thank you, Abbas." Sef said and moved away.

Amal walked with Abbas to her study. "What seems to be the problem?" She asked.

"These wooden swords. They are too weak, this latest batch." He said using his hands to snap it in two. "We need better craftsmanship if we are to teach the initiates anything of our ways."

She nodded and went to find a book. "You are right of course." She looked at the broken pieces. "I will speak to the carpenter in the morning." She said looking up at him from her cowl.

For a moment he said nothing looking at her and then he stirred himself. "My thanks, Amal."

"Of course." She said sitting. "Assalamu alaikum."

"Walaikum assalam." He said bowing.

ZzZ

Sef walked through the market when he noticed three of the assassins following him. He knew Swami, Abbas' lackey and lap dog. The man was weak-minded enough to do anything Abbas told him to. The poor fool. Altair had warned him about Abbas and to keep an eye on him from a distance.

He made a sharp turn, but found himself against the rock face between a set of houses. The three were there looking at him at the end of the alley.

"It is death to draw steel against a master. It is treason." Sef said standing watching them as he looked for an escape route.

"That supposes you will survive." Swami said.

"I am the better swordsman of you." Sef said. "My father taught me well."

"After you fall I will visit your sister-in-law and as I am slitting her throat I will be between her lovely thighs."

"I will kill you, you son of a whore." Sef growled crouching. "I will see you dead before you lay a hand on her."

"Perhaps, but I am under the orders of your great father. You apparently have been a great disappointment. You both have."

"First, you speak of rape and then of death by order of my father."

"He sent us the order." Swami lifted the parchment he held. "It is here."

"You lie." Sef suddenly was unsure. The script was his father's hand. He could see from where he stood. He had been such a disappointment that he had stayed to protect the order his father had built. And Amal. What had she ever done to gain his ire? And yet. Even as such, Sef would not be taken without a fight. He stared coldly at his fellow assassins. The two that flanked Swami shifted as they draw their own swords. The confined space would hamper his ability to dodge their blows. He knew they had planned it like that.

"Do I?" Swami asked. "Why did he not take you with him? He left you here to play babysitter to the women while your brother has the glory."

"Izhab ila al djaheem." Sef said and spat at him as he drew his sword.

"I will see you there, brother." Swami said with a smile as he nodded to the other two to attack.

ZzZ

Amal sighed as she finished her letter to the carpenter. She rose to her feet. Pulling on her winter cloak she walked out into the courtyard and down into the city. She did not pull on her veil and instead drew the cloak and her cowl further over her face. The light breeze made her feel slightly chilled as she moved to the market. The shops had their doors closed to keep out the elements, but would still sell their wares within the small cottages.

A hot cup of tea would do her wonders. Yes mint tea. Perhaps she could bring some ginger tea to Karima to soothe her stomach.

She heard something as she walked into the market and turned. She saw Sef come from the alley way clutching his arm. He was blood covered and bleeding from several wounds. He leaned against the wall at the entrance breathing hard and fighting to maintain focus from his blood loss. He had at least a dozen free flowing wounds.

He needed to find Amal and Karima and run. It was no longer safe. He noted no one was in the market as the wind swirled about him. The perfect setup for a murder. He needed to… He looked to his left. In the street was Amal herself.

She gasped and walked towards him quickly. "Sef!" She gasped.

She ran to him and reached for him as he shifted trying to maintain his balance. He had defeated his enemies in the alley, but he was weakened.

He saw her and shook his head and lifted his hand to her cheek. She felt the warm sticky heat of his lifeblood on her face. "You must go!" He told her. He heard a noise and pushed her backwards as someone in the alley growled and swung their sword.

"Run!" He cried to her as loud as he could muster, though the pain of his wounds stole the bite from his words. He turned, but the blood running down his arm fouled his grip on his sword. He blocked a blow, but a knife appeared. His sword fell from his hands and he moved to try to block the blow of the sword. His bracer blocked the sword, but not the knife.

She blinked and then Sef gasped as the knife slashed across his throat. His hand went to his neck as he tried to cry out, but could not. He dropped to the side, throat slashed. His eyes were wide in horror and hatred as they looked up at his murderer standing over him holding the ornate dagger.

Amal's eyes widened. She was unable to move as she realized her brother-in-law had just been murdered before her. She tried to cry out for help and could not. She was rooted there, mute and panting in shock.

A man stood in the shadows. Amal had seen him his bloody hands, but nothing else and she ran for shelter.

He wore white and gloves. He was missing a finger. No, it could not be. A fellow assassin?!

She made it to the edge of town before dropping to her knees and vomiting into the scrubs there. Recovering after a few moments she rose shakily to her feet. A guard, a dark hooded assassin of lower rank stepped to her. "Dai? Are you well?"

She shook her head unable to speak as she ran again straight for the house of Malik. Though the acting Mentor lived in the fortress his wife and newly borne son lived in a small home near where Karima lived with her brood and Amal's daughters.

She shook as she knocked on the heavy door.

Malik rose to his feet and handed the sleeping baby to his wife. The Nubian looked at her husband questioningly as he went to the door. "Who is it?"

"Amal, brother. Please…let me inside."

He opened the door and looked at her disturbed face. "Amal. What has happened to you? You look like you have seen a ghost." He looked at her. "What happened to your face?"

"Sef…Sef is…"

Malik had never seen her so distraught. Amal was often brash and headstrong and stubborn willed. To see Amal shaking so hard and looking so pale moved Malik. He made her sit and then sat before her taking her hand in his. She was deeply disturbed, that much was clear. She was not acting as a master assassin who could be cold and calculating, but was at the moment a woman in need of comfort.

He went and fetched a moistened cloth. He pressed it to the side of her face trying to see if it was her blood or another's on her face. It was mostly dry and she jumped a little as he touched her. He looked at her. Clearly in shock she was focusing dead ahead of her before her eyes lifted to his.

He nodded to his wife who brought her tea after setting the infant in his cradle near the warm fire. Amal took the tea and sipped it her hands shaking so badly she nearly dropped the cup. When she had the tea in her system, Malik gently looked at her, his dark eyes watching her carefully.

"Now, child. Tell me what has happened." He said.

"Sef. They killed him." She took a breath. "I fear they may be after me as well." She said.

"Who they?" He asked shifting to keep eye contact with her as she looked down.

"I do not know, but the murder's hand had nine fingers." She said lifting her left hand from his right.

Malik sat back. He well knew the implications of that. Brother against brother.

"And the weapon?" He asked.

"A dagger." She shook her head. "Much like the one I have seen you wear."

He nodded. He looked at his wife. "Take her to the room and let her rest."

"I do not need sleep, Malik." She balled her hands. "I must find those who did this and…"

"No, but your mind and heart need to calm before there is rash action." He touched her shoulder. "There is a time to grieve and a time for action. Until we uncover this, action is must remain behind grieving."

She nodded and allowed the Nubian woman to lead her back to the back room where she laid down and looked out the window. Malik looked at her form as his wife returned.

"I am worried Fatimah."

"Why?"

"With Sef murdered, who will be next?"

"You think they will come for you?"

"Possibly, but they would not be so bold as to kill me here. Assassins who live by the Creed would not harm you nor Tazim. You are both innocents. The assassins would face execution for such an offense."

"But have they not already crossed that line killing Sef, a master?"

He fell silent. She made a valid point. Fatimah often spoke her mind and would not temper her tongue. As such it was easy to understand her thoughts. It was as so now and Malik loved her all the more for it.

ZzZ

It was late in the night.

Malik was holding his sleeping son. Fatimah was sleeping on the bed with Amal curled to one side. Malik watched the women. Amal was not sleeping, but perhaps she was dozing enough to allow her mind to settle to think more as she should. The Creed barred her from full revenge, but perhaps she would find the Creed to be her gateway to avenging Sef.

He heard a noise outside and then there was heavy knocking on the door.

"Malik Al-Sayf!"

Tazim woke and Malik looked as Fatimah came into the room. She took the young babe after Malik kissed his soft hair.

He opened the door. "Why are you here at this time of night?" Malik asked standing before the door.

"There has been a murder." One of the assassins standing there with a torch said.

"Whom?" Malik asked feigning innocence.

"Sef Ibn-La'Ahad."

Malik took a breath. "I come to head the investigation." He said. He looked at his wife and son. He embraced his wife, kissing her over the squalling infant. He hugged her and looked beyond her. Amal was not in the home.

Sighing he walked with the guards to the fortress. He walked to the master's study and noted Swami, Abbas, and several others were there including one of the younger boys, Jibril, one of the Lost Boys as Malik had named them whom had returned with Amal.

He gasped as he saw two younger assassins bearing a stretcher. The body was covered by a white sheet. Malik knew that it was Sef even before Abbas lowered the sheet. The younger man's eyes were closed, but his neck was blood covered from being slashed.

Abbas lifted an ornate jewel. Malik cringed inwardly. It was a golden Topaz, the same stone that adorned his own dagger. His hand went to his side. His missing dagger.

"This was found on the body and no doubt broke off in your struggle." Abbas said.

"Why would I kill Sef?"

"You were jealous of him and you did not want a rival for power." Abbas said.

"He was not a rival." Malik said folding his arm on his chest.

"This dagger was found here in your study, Mentor." Swami sneered. He lifted it. It was blood covered to the hilt and the pommel had been broken off. "It was wrapped in linen to hide your guilt, but when Sef's body was found just outside the market."

Malik looked at them. "I have been with my wife and new son this day. Ask her."

"Women will always hold the secrets of their men and we will not torture an innocent. We still uphold the Creed, though clearly it is lost on you, brother." Abbas said.

He lifted the pommel stone and nodded to Swami as the dagger was also held up to Jibril. "You have seen this weapon before haven't you."

"Yes. It is Dai Malik's."

"Very good. Thank you." Abbas said.

"But…" The boy stammered. "Why would he kill family?"

"We will find that in due course." Abbas said looking back at Malik. "Arrest him, brothers. He is a traitor and will die by the blade soon enough."

Two assassins moved and grabbed Malik's good arm and the other held his firmly by the stump of his left arm and his side. Both looked at Malik as though he was the worst of all betrayers. Malik looked at the body of Sef, his son-in-law and swallowed. Even he had to admit, the job someone had done to frame him was well thought out.

Abbas covered Sef's face and watched Malik be taken away. He looked down at the corpse. "We will bury you will the ancestors, brother. I grieve at your loss." He paused.

ZzZ

Amal had been in the fortress and had been listening in a darkened corner nearby. She watched those leave that had come and watched Malik taken to the dungeons.

Abbas stood, hands on hips and smiled. "One more of the pillars have fallen. Now to find the vixen." He said.

"Altair will have a homecoming." Swami grinned manically.

"Indeed. Assuming he returns to Masyaf."

Amal's eyes narrowed as brothers came to wash Sef for burial. She would kill these men for the wrongs they had done. She vowed this. She would see Abbas' ruin and hoped to see him rot in hell.


	19. Alone in the World - 1226

Hope - Chapter 19 – Alone in the World – 1225

The cart pulled into Alamut in Persia.

The cart held two women wrapped into cloaks against the cold. With them were five younger girls and one boy. Amal had paid well for her sister-in-law and the children to join a caravan heading to the east. She had packed them all to go, only carrying the bare essentials to what the needed to leave.

Amal had spent an hour in the fortress hiding her books away and taking monies that she would need. The rest she hid well and kept the key, one Altair designed for her. She then came to Karima's home and told her they had to leave.

It was not until they were safely on the road that Amal had told her what the reason for the running in the dead of night was. Malik imprisoned no longer could help them and with Abbas having killed Sef, he no doubt intended to murder the whole of the family. If he raised a blade to a brother and falsely accused another of the crime, who knew if the Creed would be upheld in regard to the blood of innocents. Amal feared more for her children than her own life.

Alamut was another high fortress overlooking the Southern Caspian Sea. Surrounding the fortress and town were many, many olive groves where olive oil, a product that much of the areas from the Levant, to Naples, to Greece all used as a trade good as well as a food.

Amal jumped from the cart and walked to the gate of the fortress. Several men moved to block her passage, but she stepped within the light of their torches. It was just after dark had fallen and she lifted her head to look at the men.

"Assalamu alaikum, brothers." She greeted. She lifted her right hand over and made a fist over her heart.

The leader of the group stepped forward. "Walaikum assalam, sister." He said. He looked beyond her. "Who travels with you?"

"My widowed sister-in-law and our children." Amal said. "I am Amal bint- La'Ahad."

"Ahlan wa sahlan." The man said lifting his hands. "I am Qasim."

"Ahlan bekum." Amal said dipping her head.

Qasim stepped forward and nodded to the others to help the children and the other woman to the ground. He noted how tired they all looked. "You would seem to have a story to tell, sister."

"We were driven out."

"Where from?" He asked.

"Masyaf." She said. "My brother-in-law was murdered in cold blood and my sister-in-law's father has been imprisoned from the crime."

"A tale indeed. Come." He said. "We will serve you an evening meal and you may rest before the rest of the tale needs telling."

She nodded gratefully.

Once the children were settled, their bellies full and Amal had spoken to the Mentor of the Alamut assassins' guild, Amal came to Karima. The woman was staring at her lap and doing her best not to weep.

"Karima. I am so sorry." She whispered.

"There was nothing you could have done."

"I…"

"If you would have stayed, you would have been killed and then where would I be."

Amal sighed and knelt before her sister-in-law. "I swear to you, on the shed blood of your husband, that I will make those responsible pay for this outrage."

"Vengeance is not the assassin's way."

"The Creed means little to these men."

"It should mean something to you."

"Not when it has failed my family." Amal said looking down.

"Amal…how did Sef die?"

"He fought off men and then had a brother slit his throat. I know it could not possibly have been Malik. The hand he held the dagger in, Malik's dagger, was his left and he was missing a finger."

"But it was Malik's dagger that killed him."

"Yes, but not your father. Malik would never betray Sef so. They may not see eye to eye on everything, but he would have never killed him, especially now with you between them."

She nodded and sighed. "Make these men pay, Amal."

Amal rose to her feet. "I intend to."

ZzZ

Amal walked to the beds where her children slept. Majida and Leena shared a bed as they had since Leena was a toddler. She bent and kissed their cheeks. "I love you both." She whispered. "Stay safe and peace be upon you both."

She went to Bilal's bed. As she kissed him, his eyes opened. "Where are you going mother?"

She looked at him. She took a breath. "To kill a friend." She answered softly.

"The man who killed uncle Sef and makes Auntie weep?"

"Yes." Amal said.

He nodded. "I love you, mother. Come back to us."

"Insha'allah, I shall." She said.

He nodded and kissed her cheek. She laid a hand on his brow. "Sleep now. You are safe here. You need to look after your sisters until I return."

"Do you think father will return?"

Amal winced. She knew the boy had only heard of Darim from the other boys and from Amal herself. He had been born after Darim had left her side to be with his father and deal with the Mongol Threat to the Levant. "I hope soon. Darim, Altair, and Maria are needed now more than ever."

He nodded. "I will pray for the four of you."

"Good." She said.

She walked to the door. At a nod to Karima she walked out of the room. She leaned against it a moment. Her children would be looked after here, but she could not help wondering if she was on a fool's errand. Her anger drove her, however, and she would see Malik freed and found innocent of his crimes and Sef's killer beheaded.

She then moved quickly to the courtyard. Qasim was there and he looked at her. "You have your heart set to avenge your brother." He said. "If you give me time I can organize a force and we can bring these mockers of the Creed to justice until Altair returns and justice can be dealt in his own guild."

She took his arm. "Thank you for the offer my brother, but I must see this through." She said. "However, I would ask you look after Karima and the children."

"Of course. They are welcome here for as long as they like." He smiled a little. "Be safe, sister. If you have need of us. Be sure to send word."

"My thanks, brother. Leila Sa'eeda."

"Ma'assalama."

ZzZ

It took longer to return to her fortress home than it took to leave it.

The snows were starting to settle in and Amal at least Masyaf and looked up at the great fortress from the town below. People were walking around the town going about their daily lives.

Amal walked to the fortress and found several assassins guards watching her. They well knew the Dai and she faced them unafraid. "Let me pass."

"Abbas has ordered you are not to pass, Dai. We are to arrest you and bring you to him."

"Arrest me on what charges?" She asked.

"Insubordination and disobedience to the Creed."

"Interesting from a man who had broken the very core values of the Creed himself."

"Will you come with us?" One asked.

"I will not submit myself to him."

"Then we are to kill you."

She looked as they drew their blades. "It is treason to draw steel against a master of the order without cause."

"He said you conspired with Malik to murder Sef."

"He lies." She said drawing her own blade and releasing her hidden blade. "Death awaits you if you challenge me brothers. I beg you to reconsider."

They stood their ground watching her.

She nodded. "So be it." She hissed and leapt into the air pouncing on one guard and ending him with her hidden blade in his throat. She turned and swung her sword taking down another. The snow on the stairs was turning red with fresh spilt blood.

She stood holding her weapons to her sides watching the other three as they looked at her and then each other nervously. Two charged her and she stabbed them both leaving one. She took a step forward and he turned and ran raising an alarm.

Amal hissed and moved toward the courtyard.

She took out two more before the whole of the guards in the Keep were on her. Outmanned, but still fighting, she was disarmed and bound as she was forced to the ground, her face in the icy snow. They lifted her to her feet. She realized she never would have made it out of this and she was alive still which was interesting to her. Abbas most have called for her to be taken alive.

She sighed. Altair would never have been taken so, but even still she struggled despite her hands being bound before her with cords. She was half carried and half dragged into the library building where she was thrown down in a heap at Abbas' feet.

Abbas looked at her as she defiantly rose to her feet. The girl was covered in bruises, her own blood, and that of others. He smiled down at her. "Thank you. We will deal with her."

"As you wish." The others said bowing and leaving.

Amal looked at him as she glared from under her hood. "Want no one to witness you killing me unjustly then?"

"They all expect you to die, Amal." He said looking at her. He reached up and pulled down her hood narrowly avoiding her biting him. "Such a mouth. What I wouldn't do to taste that sugar, though with that expression the honey has no doubt turned to vinegar."

Her eyes narrowed and she said nothing.

"All I need is the locations of your books. I know you hid them."

She remained silent.

He stepped closer. "Your defiantness is not helping you, my dear."

She still remained silent, her green eyes holding venom.

"I will ask you one more time." He growled.

She looked up at him. "Go fuck yourself traitor." She said lowly.

"Such words from such pretty lips." He said mocking being aghast. He then backhanded her and her head snapped sharply to the side, but she remained upright.

She looked at him her eyes narrow. "I know that Malik is innocent. Sef's murderer had a left hand and it was four fingered." She hissed. "I also heard you after you arrested Malik. Sef's blood is on your hands."

Abbas looked at her. So she was a witness as well as the keeper of the information he needed. "I would rather not kill you, Amal." He said. He gripped her face to make her look at him. "I will spare you if you tell me where the books are."

She spat at him and he wiped the spittle from his face. "Kill me if you will coward. I do not fear it."

He shoved her backwards against the wall. "Perhaps I should allow Swami to beat it out of you."

She looked at the younger man with distain. "Swami would not know what to do with that small tail between his legs if you drew him a map."

Abbas smirked a little. "Ever the quick tongue." He stepped to her and bent. He pressed her against the wall and kissed her hard.

Angry Amal gasped and shoved him bodily backwards from her. Light swirled about her. He blinked. He had seen this before from the Apple. What the hell game was this?

Amal stood coldly regarding him as she released her hands from the ropes about her hands. Her wrists were small enough she could escape and the rope fell from her as she looked up at Abbas. Abbas had never seen such a cold look from anyone and he stepped back a moment.

"What the devil is this?" He asked.

"The devil you know. "She smiled without humor and leapt at him. He did not have time to draw a sword as she laid her hands on his chest and pressed him to the wall. He cried out in sudden pain as her palms burned his flesh through the robes her wore. He looked down to see the robes were charred and she was looking at him.

Swami broke from being stunned and came at her. He hit the focused girl with his sword butt to the temple. She gasped and the light faded as she dropped like a stone, blood oozing from her nose as she crumpled in a heap on the ground.

Swami lifted his sword to strike, but Abbas lifted a hand. "No!" He cried.

"What?" Swami asked.

"This…power she has. I have seen it before in the Apple." He looked down at her. "She is something of value. Altair once said the Templars sought her. I had no idea why…until now." He knelt and looked at her. "Well, well, my dear, you have earned your reprieve for now." He hissed.

He looked up at Swami. "Take her to the dungeons. A month in the cold dark may change her tune."

"Malik is there."

"Let them rot together in misery until I am ready to liberate her." He looked at his red chest. "I must first understand this power." He said.

ZzZ

Swami walked into the dungeons. Two assassins walked before him holding torches.

Malik looked up and then sheltered his eyes from the light a moment while his eyes adjusted. He looked up as the door opened and an armed guard stood looking at him hostilely as he noticed Swami carrying Amal in. He unceremoniously dropped her onto the stale hay in the corner.

Blood had oozed and dried from her nose and there was a hand print on her cheek that was bruised and angry. Her robes had the blood of her own from several matching cuts as well as others. Swami looked at Malik as he shut the door.

"Enjoy that little demon, traitor."

Malik blinked as they turned away. Again he had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the low light from the moonlight from the window above. He then moved to Amal's side.

"What have they done to you, child?" He asked softly. He touched her neck gently. She lived and her breast rose and fell as she breathed, but she had fought. He shook his head. He was glad she had survived, but to wait gain to Abbas was she alive and imprisoned.

He was falsely accused and was now a scapegoat for all Abbas' hatred for now, but what significance did she have?

He gently wiped the blood away and then sat beside her waiting for her to wake.

It took until dawn for her to open her eyes. Malik had fallen asleep near her. She looked about and sat up wincing as her body protested the movements. She looked about. Where was she?

Malik woke and looked at her as her hand went to her head.

"Are you well, Amal?"

"My head feels like a swarm of bees inside it."

"Lay back." He said gently. He lifted a water skin and pressed it to her lips.

She sipped the life-giving fluid a moment before she looked up at him. "Where are we?"

"The dungeons."

"Why am I alive?"

"Apparently, Abbas has reason to keep you alive as he does me."

"Perhaps not enough the order under his control to do away with us."

"He had Sef killed, I am sure of it." Malik said.

"I know it." Amal said as she looked at her body. "What do I do now?" she asked.

"Wait. As I do, child. Wait for death to come from starvation or from a blade."

"But you are innocent. I lifted steel to brothers."

"In self-defense."

She gave him a look. "None of that matters now."

"Altair will return soon. There were rumors of the Khan's fall on the Steppe. If these prove true, the three will return and behead Abbas for his crimes."

"It will take them months to reach us, if not longer. It took me more than two months to go to Alamut and return. I should have known winter was a poor time to travel."

"Are my wife, son, and daughter safe?"

"Fatimah has been left unmolested by order of Abbas and with her Tazim is safe."

"I trust his charity like I trust the wind to stay blowing from one direction."

"She is innocent and to kill her and your son would make him enemies." She said.

"Karima and her daughters?"

"Safe with my children in Alamut."

"Persia. An interesting choice."

"The Levant was no longer safe and the assassin brothers embraced us."

"Good." He said. "Perhaps then hope is not lost."

She nodded and sighed.

"Rest, child. We have nothing but time."

She had always respected Malik's words. He had a wisdom she had learned to respect. Altair had a wisdom as well and she had learned much from them. She shook her head and closed her eyes praying to God, Allah, or whomever was there to bring Altair, Darim, and Maria back to them.


	20. Imprisoned

Hope - Chapter 20 – Imprisoned

It had been months since Amal had been able to walk in the fresh air above. She had been given leave to have candles and a book to write a journal, but Abbas had never once come to see her as she walked around the cell with Malik to keep her strength up.

She had become used to the bread, water, and thin soup that was brought to them to sustain them. Amal had been watching Malik. The elder was weakening and she had made sure he had more of the food to keep his strength up.

He had begun to cough and though it was clearly spring by the birdsong outside, it was still chilled in the dungeons. The damp was not good for the elder and his cough worsened.

Amal finally could not stand it after watching the poor man cough so hard blood speckled his lips. She shook her head and determined she would help him as he slept. She had saved Darim. Why could she not save this man? He was clearly suffering.

Malik's shoulder bones showed under his robes and his skin had become gaunt against his bones. She shook her head. As night feel she watched him ease asleep as she wrote the last words in her journal before she waited.

As he softly snored she moved to him and closed her eyes. She had no idea how she could call upon this power again, but she dearly wished to. She laid a hand on him and he stirred lightly. The words on his lips were the names of his son and wife.

She took a breath and looked at her hands. She would save him!

Light swirled around her hand and she closed her eyes allowing whatever this was to fill her. It was a warm and comforting embrace. She welcomed it as she concentrated. She had to do as she had for Darim. She had done that out of love. Now she did this out of respect for a man she looked up to and knew was slowly dying. His lungs were the problem and she knew this place was horrible causing problems with the skin and with the body. As a young and healthy woman, she was not yet showing signs other than the occasional rat bite while she slept.

She touched his chest and looked at him. After a few moments she could feel him breathing easier. She took a breath and then felt suddenly rather ill as she had when she had touched Darim. Altair had told her she was a Chalice and the power to both heal and cause pain came from her bloodline, but even he had been skeptical of such claims he had read by Templar scholars until he had seen her. Even had admitted he was not sure what this meant.

She blinked and dropped to the hay beside him.

Malik gasped and realized he was able to take a full deep breath. He had not been able to for at least two months and it had been getting worse. Now he could breathe again and he looked about. He sat up and blinked and then looked down.

Amal looked to be sleeping on her stomach, but then he noticed the hay beneath her face was stained red. Carefully he rolled her to the side and saw blood running freely from her nose. Gasping her lifted his hand to the bridge of her nose. He pinched it to try to stem the blood flow.

"Amal. What have you done?" He asked as he shook her and she would not wake. She lived clearly by how her life blood flowed from her, but still. After an hour it stopped and her own breathing was easier.

Malik sighed. Whatever she had done to help him had cost her.

Gently, he let her sleep keeping watch over her to make sure the rats did not attach her arms or legs.

ZzZ

Abbas visited a week later. He had the jailor open the cell and he looked at the pair as they weakly rose to their feet, their bodies protesting from ill use. "Amal. I have wondered if you have come to your senses. Come. Walk with me, child."

Amal looked at Malik who shrugged and nodded.

Sighing the girl walked forward her hands visible. An assassin with Abbas came and forced her to her knees. She did not fight, but grunted as her knees hit the cold stones.

Abbas clicked his tongue. "Gently, Hammon." He said.

The guard nodded and then reached down and bound her hands. He helped her to her feet and they walked out. Abbas shot a look to Malik who remained where he was, watching.

Amal walked with Abbas and he walked with her up out of the dungeons and to the courtyard. She ducked and closed her eyes against the light and then found a hand helping her. She looked up and noticed Abbas standing there.

"Forgive me. I did not wish you or myself to be harmed while you were here." He said.

"What do you want?" She asked.

"I wish to speak to you now that our tempers have cooled." He said spreading his hands. "Come. You have not bathed in weeks. I know you have wished to wash."

She followed him proudly. The idea of cleaning the layers of filth from her was appealing. She found herself before the hot spring room. She looked at Abbas.

"Surely, you do not intend to join me, Abbas." She said.

"Heaven's no, but I will allow you to refresh yourself if you wish. There are robes within for you to wear that are clean."

She nodded and then looked at him. "Can I be unbound?"

He smiled. "How clumsy of me." He said. He lifted a knife and cut her bonds before pressing her inside. He closed the door and she sighed looked about.

She stripped her once white robes away. They were caked in dirt, dried blood, and her own body stench of being without a proper bath for months. She then sank gratefully into the heated water. She took the sands and other products that had been laid out for her and used them. She scrubbed until her skin was red and raw.

After she rose, her hair cleaned as well, and found the robes. The robes were that of a matron. She was surprised. She had neither the years nor the marriage required to wear these, but rather than be naked she accepted the dress was tying the sash as Abbas walked into the room without knocking.

She stood hands on hips. "In my day, a man knocks before he enters the presence of a lady."

He looked at her and bowed slightly. "Forgive me, Amal. I had called out, but when I did not hear from you, I feared for your safety." He said.

She looked at him and shook her head. She then stepped forward. "Now what? I am washed, what do you intend to do with me now? Put me on display?"

"No." He said. "Come. You must be famished."

She followed him and was surprised he let her remain unbound. He led her to his private rooms. She looked out the window and realized just how much time had passed. It was high summer and the assassins were training in the courtyard training rings.

"I was imprisoned for six months?" She asked.

"A punishment the council felt was necessary for your attack on the Mentor." He looked at her. "I trust you have learned your lesson."

She sighed.

She sat in a bowl chair and regarded him. "Why am I here and not rotting in a jail?"

"I need your help." He said sitting down near her. He leaned forward. "I need your charisma to win over the people of Masyaf. They have proved somewhat…temperamental with my claim to be the new Mentor after we arrested Malik for Sef's murder."

"He is innocent of that."

"Perhaps." He said.

She watched Abbas carefully. "And what would I get in return for this…help?"

"Anything you desire." He said.

She sighed and turned to lift some grapes to eat them as she pondered this.

After nearly two hours speaking to Abbas, Amal returned to the cells. It had been her choice, but she refused to live in luxury while an innocent rotted in jail.

Malik looked her over. "Well met Judas." He said.

She sighed. "He is either beginning to see reason or up to something."

"You even question that?"

She nodded. She then smiled and lifted some food she had smuggled. "I brought you a present." She said smiling.

He took it and blinked. "Why?"

"I will get you free, Malik. I swear."

He smiled sadly before he moved to eat the grapes and goat cheese she had stolen from the table.

ZzZ

Abbas sat finishing the glass of wine he had started with Amal at his side.

Swami joined him. "You must move fast. Altair already returns."

"It will be months before he returns to Masyaf. I have time."

"She is…resistant to you, however."

"Naturally. However, women love gifts and kindness. She spoke to me without swearing at me." He said. "That is progress, Swami."

"Do you really think the plan will work?"

"So far it has been, would you not agree."

"I just worry what Altair will do to us if he suspects betrayal."

Abbas rose so quickly he nearly bowled his underling over. He slapped his face hard. "Listen. You are not supposed to think. You are meant to act. Have you taken care of Rauf? Altair sent in his last letter to Malik that he wanted Rauf to greet him when he returned."

Swami nodded holding his jaw. "I have."

"Good." Abbas said. "The next piece is to seduce the queen."

ZzZ

Over the next months Abbas worked hard at making Amal forgive him. Summer turned to fall which froze into winter which again melted into spring. Each night she would join Malik who was growing weaker in the dungeons to write in her journal about what she had learned and what was happening that she had witnessed. She had managed to have pallets brought for them to get them away from the rats that ran in the hay.

She had also managed to have Malik's family come to visit him in a less dank part of the dungeon. His son was a toddler now and actively exploring. Fatimah had been left alone and in fact had been being provided for by the assassins knowing well she had no part in the murder of Sef.

Malik was grateful.

Malik himself had become frail from being so confined for so long. Though Amal stole food to bring him, it was still not enough. His body needed the sun and the ability to move around more than the cell. He was slowly dying, more slowly than then before, but he was still dying.

Abbas bought her trinkets and jewelry that he had had made for her. She had resisted his charms as he tried to seduce her. He well knew that Altair would return and her husband with him and so he needed to act fast. He watched her walking along the parapet a moment before walking to her.

"I have something for you in my room." He said.

"More gifts?"

"Yes." He said.

She sighed and followed him. He walked into his room and she followed. She did not notice as he locked the door behind him and followed her to where she stood looking at a new set of jewels on his desk. "I cannot accept these. This is too much Abbas." She said.

He smiled and lifted a hand to her hair and brushed it back softly. "No more than you deserve."

She laughed. "My husband never gave me such things."

"Perhaps because he did not know you like them." He said.

"Perhaps."

He watched her turn. He then moved. It was now or never. He knew from the letters that Altair was less than a month from the mountain home. He gently turned her. "Enough of these games, Amal." He said. He leaned down and kissed her.

The kiss was not gentle and she was so startled she did not fight back. He pressed her backwards to the bed and she fell backwards looking up at him in shock. He held her arms and he bound them with silk to the headboard of the bed.

She looked up and gasped. "What the hell are you doing?" She asked.

"Since you will not allow me to woo you as a man should, there remains force." He looked at her as he sat on her midsection looking at her. Her struggles only made him harder. "With my child in your womb, I will be able to both claim you as wife and gain the Apple."

She struggled and she looked at him as he gently pulled at her robes. "You have enticed me with your youthful body for months." He said looking down as he exposed skin. "Since you will not let me have it willingly, I will take what I wish."

She tried to kick him off and cried out.

He laughed. "Yell, scream, as you will, Amal. No one will come to help you." He said. He bent and kissed her as she tried to bite him. He laughed and pressed her back as he exposed her breasts. "I will show you what a real man can do to worship this body of yours."

"My husband is a greater man. He never took it by force. He asked." She growled.

He smiled and cupped one of her breasts. "More the pity. Stolen fruit is always so much sweeter." He smiled as he sucked her nipple between his lips a moment and watched her fight as her body began to betray her. Too long had she been without pleasure that her body leapt at the chance to feel it again and well he knew it.

There was suddenly a knock at the door. Abbas ignored it until it became more frantic. Abbas growled and rose from the bed. He grinned at her. "Don't go anywhere, my pet."

She spat at him.

He opened the door and found Swami there. "Oh this had better be good, or I swear by Allah I will…"

"Altair, Maria, and Darim are just south of the village."

Abbas cringed, but only slightly. "No matter. We have everything we need." He looked at his lackey. "Go to the town and greet them. Tell them what we have discussed."

Swami nodded. "As you command."

Abbas shut the door and then bellowed. He threw a pitcher and it shattered against the wall.

Amal looked at him. "Problem?" She asked.

The smirk on her face caused him to grit his teeth. So the vixen had heard. He looked at her and then lifted a hand and slapped her heard across the face. She gasped, feeling her lip and nose start to ooze blood.

"Feel like a man now that you can beat a woman?" She asked looking back at him defiantly.

He reached above her and tied silk into her mouth to make a gag. "A woman should know her place when to speak." He said his face near hers. "Unfortunately, Altair spoiled my plans with you, my sweet, but I will give you a gift to remember me by."

He pulled her to her feet after binding her hands together. He then lifted his hand and slapped her again. This time she blinked.

"When you fall to the floor, I will stop, but your nature will take as much as you can to try to prove you are stronger than I am."

She straightened her shoulders. "Altair will kill you." She yelled. It was muffled, but he could hear.

"Not if I kill him first." He kicked her side. She yelped again, but refused to drop.

ZzZ

Altair, Darim, and Maria dismounted at the city gate. A groom too their weary mounts. The three looked up at the city that they knew as home, but had not returned to for a more than a decade.

Swami moved from where he sat under a tree waiting. Altair regarded the younger man. Altair had grown a small salted beard, but his dark eyes were watchful. None of the townsfolk had greeted them as they normally would assassins.

"Hail." Swami said.

Altair took a breath. "The city is so still. Why is Rauf not here as I requested?"

"Rauf died of a fever some months ago I regret so say."

"You are the one the call Swami, son of Farim, are you not?"

"Yes, Mentor."

"I would speak to Sef, my son, and Amal, my daughter-in-law. Neither has written in months. Where are they?"

"Forgive me, Mentor. They have gone to Alamut."

"Why?"

"There have been a great many things that have happened. Malik is imprisoned."

"On what grounds?"

"Not here." The younger man said lifting his hand.

Altair watched the younger man who seemed nervous. Perhaps the man was in awe of Altair whom had not been there for so long, but also perhaps it was he was lying.

Darim looked to his father. "I will travel to Alamut to fetch them father."

Altair nodded. "Very good. Now." He looked at the fortress. "I wish to refresh before I join the council and see what is amiss."

Swami nodded. "Your village home is waiting."

Altair nodded. "Thank you."

Maria walked after him as Swami moved away. She leaned close. "Masyaf has changed."

"And not for the better." He said in agreement.

"We have been away for a long time." She said.

"We need to sort out what has happened. Malik would never betray the order and least of all me." He said.

"So sure are you? He hated you once for the loss of his brother."

"We all change, Maria." He said looking at her.

"Indeed."


	21. The Truth in Alamut - 1228

Chapter 21 –The Truth in Alamut – 1228

Darim looked at the fortress of Alamut.

It was named Alamut, "the Eagle's Nest" for good reason. It had a view of miles of territory. It was just as formidable as Masyaf and perhaps more so with mountains to one side and the Caspian Sea to the other. The town grow down the sloping hills to the sea beyond where. The fortress was situated between the densely forested slopes of the Mazandaran province in the north and the dry and barren plain of Qazvin in the south. Nearby the castle of Lambsar was another source of power for the assassins of the region. The Persians were formidable opponents and when Altair had started the guild of assassins many years ago, he had not imagined they would have as much success in the region as they did.

From time to time the Persian brothers would travel to Masyaf seeking Altair's wisdom on matters in the region they controlled and they had been the first to report on the Mongol horde coming closer and closer to area. Fearing being overrun they cried for help and Altair, Darim, and Maria had gone to meet the horde.

Darim dismounted from his mount and walked to the guards who stepped forward at the city gate. They were not aggressive, but watchful. It was approaching noon it the breeze from the sea made it seem cooler than the air really was.

"Safety and Peace, brothers." Darim said spreading his hands.

"And to you, brother." The leader stepped forward. "You have the look of the Levant. We have a family in our care from the region."

"Sef…Amal…" Darim breathed. He then looked up. "Where may I find them?"

The Persian guard stepped forward. "You are the one named Darim Ibn-La'Ahad."

"Yes." Darim said surprised he was known here. His Persian was not great, but he could get by.

"I am Qasim." Qasim nodded. "Come with me."

He led them into them a street that was up the hill near the fortress. The houses were larger and had gardens before him. "Karima is at the market, but some of the children are here." Qasim smiled as he nodded to a raven haired beauty who could not be more than ten came out from the home and waved at him. "Miriam. Could you have your cousin fetch your mother?"

"Yes." She nodded and she was joined by a girl who looked exactly like her before they ran back into the house calling for someone.

"Twins." Darim remarked. "Sef's children?"

"Yes." Qasim nodded. "I have my own. At times they are together playing with dolls."

Darim nodded.

A youth came from the house. He had grey blue eyes and dark hair. Darim froze looking at the boy. He looked exactly as he did in his youth. The boy came to Qasim. "What is needed? Miriam and Maria are always so excitable." He said with a look of disgust.

Qasim chuckled. "They are twin girls." He said. "Now Bilal I need you to fetch your Aunt from the Market. Your uncle has arrived."

"My uncle is dead." The young man said passing them.

"What?" Darim said. "How?" He asked.

"You are not my uncle." The boy said.

"This is your uncle, Darim."

The boy froze and whipped back looking at the older man up and down. Darim was not in his thirties and looked at the boy watching him. "Darim is not my uncle. He is my sire." He said slowly. He looked at the man and blinked.

"But your mother Amal introduced herself as Amal bint Altair bin La'Ahad." Qasim said in confusion. He was not alone and he noticed the youth and assassin watching each other and taking measure.

Darim recovered from the shock at hearing that this boy was his son faster than the boy recovered. Darim looked at him. "Amal is my wife." He said softly.

"But…" Qasim said looking between the pair.

"She uses my father's name because she does not remember we own sire." Darim said softly. "I understand your confusion, friend. It is clear you have been close to the family. How long have they been here?"

"Nearly two years." Qasim answered. "Amal brought them here after there was trouble in Masyaf."

He looked from the guard to his apparent son. "Where is she?"

"Gone." Bilal said turning to go. He moved quickly.

Darim moved to followed, but Qasim lifted his hand. "He will return." He looked at the younger man. "Not the homecoming you were expecting then?"

Darim sat down on a bench nearby. "No." He looked up. "I have a son." He blinked. "I have been gone for more than ten years and I have a son."

"Two daughters as well."

"I was there for their birth." He took a breath. "Why did she not tell me?" He said to himself.

It was sometime before Bilal returned carrying things for his aunt who also had her arms full. She had bought food for two days with her brood she cared for. Her own three daughters and Amal's three proved to be a challenge, though the money Amal had left her helped greatly so she did not have to live off the charity of the assassins who were in command of the fortress. They would look after a widow of their own and her children, but she wished to attempt to live on her own and not be reminded daily about her husband's duty that had gotten him killed.

She gasped seeing Darim rise to his feet to greet her. "Darim." She said softly almost like a prayer. He had aged little other than the wisdom in his eyes and the tan on his skin from long hours in the sun on the Steppe. Darim was a handsome man and he had been the first to court her and she felt her heart jump a little seeing him, but she also well knew his heart belonged to another just as hers did, though hers was now broken after her husband's murder and her father's imprisonment. Amal had gone nearly two years ago to free Malik, but she had not returned with him leading the woman to think she had failed in her task. As such Karima upheld her part of the vow and cared for the children as though they were her own.

Darim looked at her kindly and smiled a little as he stepped to her. "Here let me help you." He said taking the vegetables from her arms and the fresh goat milk.

"Thank you." She said wiping her hands on her apron. They walked into the house and he set the baskets and jug down as did Bilal. She turned to her nephew and smiled at him. "Would you be so kind as to take Miriam and Maria for a walk and go find your sisters for me?"

"Of course, Auntie." He looked at Darim who was organizing the food absently. "Are you sure you want to be alone with him?"

Darim turned and realized the boy did not trust him. He had not given the boy cause to trust him yet he knew and he sighed and knelt before the younger man and looked into his eyes. Darim took a breath. The lad had inherited Darim's mother Maria's dancing eyes and Altair's coloring and body structure, but in his face Darim saw as much of his mother as he saw himself.

"You have the look of your mother." He said.

Bilal looked at him and folded his thin arms. "Aunt I says I look like you."

Darim's cheek lifted in a smile as he looked up at Karima. "You have my eyes and both our Syrian coloring." He said. He lifted a hand and touched the boys head. "You are the man of the house. I need you to trust me before you go on this errand. I will not harm your aunt. I swear to you." He said.

"My mother swore she would come home." He said. Darim read the insecurity in the boy's eyes.

"I will bring her back." Darim said half promising himself and half promising the boy. "I miss her terribly." He said. "I have not seen her in as long as you have years."

"Are you truly my father?" Bilal asked.

"I…"

Karima stepped forward. "Your father left while you were still growing in your mother's womb, Bilal. Neither knew you were there when Darim left with your grandmother and grandfather."

The boy took a breath. "You did not abandon us?"

"I am here, aren't I?" Darim asked spreading his hands. "I came as soon as I could."

The boy nodded. "I will go fetch my sisters now. Safety and peace." He said bowing his hand over his heart on his thin chest.

Darim lifted his own hand to his own chest. "And with you brother."

Bilal gathered the twins with him telling them they were going to go find flowers for their uncle. They left and Karima took a breath.

"Safe for a time." She muttered.

Darim looked at her. "Can I help you?" He asked.

She nodded as she reached for a tuber she had bought. It had a light skin and purple flesh beneath as she began to peel it with a knife. Darim sat down on a bench, drew his own knife, and began to peel on as well and gasped as he cut his thumb after a moment.

She smiled a little. "Cut away, not toward."

He nodded after sucking on his cut a moment. He had killed many in ten years and some even with this knife, but the simple task of skinning a potato was a skill he was yet to learn. The cut stopped bleeding and he continued amazed at her skill as she worked. "Where are Amal and Sef, Karima? What has happened?"

She paused. "Amal left two years ago and has not returned."

"Why?"

"She was going to kill those who murdered Sef." She said.

"Sef was murdered?"

"Yes." She looked up. "And my father was accused of the crime." She took a breath and closed her eyes against the pain. "At first I knew that Amal was jealous of Sef and me being together while you were away, but now, you have returned so you have her and I have no man."

He reached and touched her cheek as a tear ran down it. "After I find my wife, I swear to you. I will care for you. Sef looked after my family for ten years. It is the least I can do."

"Thank you for your kind words." She said touching the warm hand.

He nodded letting his hand drop as he looked back at the potato he held. "Where did Amal go?"

"Masyaf."

"She was not there when we arrived and we were told that Sef and Amal were both here."

"Lies. The order is full of them, Darim." She said.

"Do they treat you well here?"

"Yes." She said.

"Good." He said finishing the tuber and moved onto a second one.

"Do you think she is dead?"

"I do not know." He said.

She nodded. "Bilal has grown into your image." She said smiling. "He grows like you every day." She smiled. "He wishes to be his grandfather one day."

He chuckled. "Youth always has their whims." He looked at her. "Am I truly his father?"

"Do you not trust her?" She asked looking up at him.

"No I do, but I would have hoped she would have told me of her condition before I left her." He swallowed and looked down. "I should never have left her side."

"You had to. Your father commanded it."

"Even still."

"Perhaps she knew that you needed to go with your father and that was the only way to assure that."

He listened to the truth of her words. "Perhaps you are right."

"Would you have left her if you would have known she was again expecting?"

"No." He said.

She nodded. "There you go then." She rose to her feet and put the tubers in a put with some water and then began to cut some goat meat she had purchased as well.

He sighed.

It was nearly dark when he heard voices. At first he had been weary, but then he knew the sounds were those of children. The door opened and he looked at Bilal who smiled at him. Behind him came a dark haired beauty with dark eyes. Behind her came two girls he well knew, but they were older now and both had bodies of young women. Leena had his eyes while Majida had those of his father. So clever were those eyes as she paused and regarded him. Dark and piercing. Well he knew those eyes. Altair would live on after his death in those dark eyes just as Maria would live in Leena and Bilal. He looked at Leena. The girl was the very image of the drawing that Altair had made of Maria in her younger days.

Karima smiled at them. "Come then, greet your father!" She said.

Leena and Majida stepped forward and embraced the man why hardly remembered and whose face they only knew in weak memory. He hugged each and kissed each on the brow. He looked to Karima. "What have you been feeding them?" He asked smiling. "They have grown like mustard."

Karima smiled. "My own daughters Noor, Miriam, and Maria." She nodded to them. "Your uncle, Darim."

"He came back from the Mongols?" Noor asked.

"Is he an assassin too?" Miriam asked.

"Where is your blade?" Her twin asked rolling his left arm in her hand.

He chuckled at her and loved it from her hand and flicked the stub of his finger against the mechanism, revealing the blade as it came from its sheath. "It is not a toy." He said.

"No." Noor said. "It is a tool. The tool of the assassin."

"Mother said that those who cannot fight with blades can still die by them." Majida said. "We all can fight, father."

He smiled at her as he sheathed the weapon and nodded. "Good, but for now in the morning I must go to find your mother."

"What if she is dead like uncle Sef?" Leena asked.

"Then I will avenge her and return to you." He said simply.

They nodded.

The evening meal was mostly silent and then Karima ordered them to wash and go to bed. Darim stood by the fire letting it warm him as he watched Karima clean up. He sighed and looked at her. "I ride in the morning for Masyaf." He said simply.

She nodded. "Fortune favor your blade, Darim."

He touched her cheek softly. "Thank you."

She smiled and went to the other part of the house to check on the children.

Darim slept little on the bench before the fire. He had slept on far less comfortable ground so that was not the problem. It was more that his mind was full. Amal had given him a son, a beautiful son who was far more mature than he should be at his age. She had never written about him in her letters. Was it perhaps she knew that he would return?

He sighed.

She had left to seek revenge for his brother's murder and not returned. Mailk was imprisoned for a crime he did not commit. The assassins had to know about the betrayal and so did his father. He prayed her would reach Masyaf in time.

ZzZ

Dawn broke.

Darim was saddling his horse and checking the straps. He had taken provisions that Karima had offered to him and gave her money to restock her supplies. He sighed and caressed the horse's head. This horse had seen him through much. The horse was shorter than any Arabian horse had ridden, but he was surefooted and could carry Darim well. He was not built for speed or show, but he was very functional, capable of traveling miles upon miles.

He heard a noise and turned to see Bilal standing, arms folded about his body to ward off the chill. Darim regarded the sleep child.

"I heard you. I wanted to say goodbye."

Darim nodded and knelt before the young boy. "I need you to keep an eye on you sisters, aunt, and cousins for me. You are the man of the house until I return." He said. "Can you do that for me?"

"I promised mother." He said softly. "I miss her."

"I promise to find her." Darim said cupping the boy's chin to make him look at him.

"What if…?" The boy looked on the edge of tears. "I have a father now, but what if my mother is gone."

"Do not think such things, Bilal." He said. He took the boy by the shoulders. "I regret not being here for you. Perhaps I could have saved us all grief."

"Uncle Sef said you were brave and good." He took a breath.

"He was a good man, your uncle." Darim nodded, taking a breath to hide his own grief from the boy.

"Yes. He taught me much. I hope to make you and him proud one day."

Darim smiled at the youth. "You already do."

"Safety and peace, father." The boy said.

Darim embraced his son and held him. "You as well, my son." He said. He nodded and rose to his feet.

He mounted as the boy stood back from him. "Remember, Bilal. You are Bilal ibn Darim ibn Altair bin La'Ahad." He put his hand to his chest.


	22. Return to Disarray – 1228

Chapter 22 –Return to Disarray – 1228

Altair was amazed that being a Master Assassin he was not taken to the Master tower to be housed. Though he had a small home in the village for Maria to be able to do her work away from the assassins who did not fully trust her, still they were given rooms of a normal assassin.

Though used to modest accommodations on the road for ten years, he had expected to be treated as dictated.

Maria stood silently behind him.

They sat in their room as they had for two weeks.

Altair was going more and more annoyed with the council refusing to see him. It also gave him time to think. Why had Malik betrayed him? Why had Amal and Sef fled to Alamut? What had happened to the order?

He looked out the window watching as the sun grew higher in the sky. "I grow tired of this, Maria."

He shook his head and moved to leave the room. He would have answers. He would not be put to the side again. He walked purposefully toward the master's tower with his wife behind him.

Swami was walking toward them. He was easily identified by his bald head. Beside Altair Maria hissed. She hated this young interloper. He smiled. "Ah, the council has come together. They welcome you."

Altair narrowed his eyes at the impudent young men, but they followed him to the council room. The council served as advisors with the mentor there in residence. When a mentor was removed due to crimes against the order, the council became a ruling body until a new mentor could be voted in.

Altair entered the room. Nine men were seated around a table. Two chairs had been set for Altair and Maria at one head while Abbas sat at the other. Altair regarded his antagonist and for the first time since Abbas' father had come into his room and killed himself, Altair did not feel pity for the man, but loathing.

He sat at the head of the council in the mentor's seat, watching Altair wearily. The council had little of the members still within it and one chair sat empty. Amal's seat as treasurer. Altair wondered, for a moment where the girl was. She had run with Sef, but why? What had driven them off and why was Malik imprisoned.

He eyed the council. All of them had become fat, including Farim, Swami's father who was younger than Altair by some twenty years, but had the bulk of at least two men. Altair watched them in disgust for the moment.

"Welcome, Altair." Abbas said. "Please. Sit."

Altair held the chair as Maria sat down and he joined her. He looked across the table at Abbas.

Abbas waved his hand. "I am sure I speak for us all when I say I am looking forward to hearing about your adventures and exploits to the east."

Maria leaned forward. "First, before we speak on this, we would like some answers, if you please Abbas. We left Masyaf in good order. It seems the standards and courtesies have been allowed to slip."

Abbas was watching Altair just as the master was watching him. "We left the Order?" He asked. "When you left the brotherhood I remember there being only one master. Now there are two?" He spread his hands.

"Be careful that your insolence does not cost you dear." Maria hissed.

"My insolence!" Abbas hissed. He laughed. "Altair, please tell the infidel you took to wife that from now on she can only address the council when spoken to."

Altair growled and leapt to his feet sending his chair backwards so hard it clattered on the stones. His hand went to the hilt of his sword, but two guards came forward, swords drawn.

"Take his weapon from him." Abbas said. "Altair, you know weapons are not allowed in council. Are you wearing your blade?" He asked.

As the guard removed his sword, Altair's sleeve dropped as he spread his hands to reveal that he wore no bracer or hidden blade. He regarded the guard coldly as he stepped back.

"Now I think we can begin." Abbas said. "Please do not waste more time and update us on the quest of yours to remove the Khan."

"Only once you tell me what has happened to Malik." Altair growled.

"Then we are at an impasse."

Making an exasperated noise, Altair recounted the chase they had done for years through Persia, India, and Mongolia, where he, Maria, and Darim had met and befriended the assassin Qulan Gal. They went to the Xia Province that was besieged by the Mongol Army.

"Darim found a vantage point not far away from the camp and, armed with his bow, would watch over Qulan Gal and me as we made our way through the tents. It was heavily guarded and we relied on him to dispose of any guards we alerted or looked like they might raise an alarm." Altair looked about the table. "And he performed this duty admirably."

"Like father, like son." Abbas said.

"Perhaps not." Altair said staring at him evenly. "For it was I who responsible for almost alerting the Mongols of our presence."

Abbas sneered. "He is not infallible."

"Nobody is, Abbas." Altair said evenly. "Least of all me, and I allowed an enemy soldier to come upon me. He wounded me before Qulan Gal was able to kill him."

"Getting old, Altair?" Jeered Abbas.

"Everybody is, Abbas." Altair said refusing to take the bait. "And I would have been dead if Qulan Gal had not managed to take me from the camp and bring me to safety. HE saved my life." He looked at Abbas. "Qulan Gal returned to the camp. First he formulated a plan to flush the Khan from his tent. However, realizing the danger, the Khan tried to escape on horseback. Qulan Gal met him and they fought on horseback, but it was Darim who finished the Khan with a shot from his crossbow."

"His skills as a bowman are beyond doubt." Abbas smiled. "Much like his wife." He looked at Altair a slight smirk on his lips. "I gather you sent him away, perhaps to Alamut?"

Altair blinked. The man knew much. "He has left the citadel on my orders. Whether it wwas to Alamut or not I will not say."

"To see Sef and Amal at Alamut, perhaps." Pressed Abbas. He then turned to Swami who was near him. "You told them Sef and his sister-in-law were there, I trust."

"As instructed, master." Swami said.

Altair looked at them. Something in the way they has said that made him feel something in his heart. It was almost fear… He sensed it in Maria as well as she sat like a stone beside him.

"Say what you have to say, Abbas."

"Or what, Altair?"

"Or my first task when I resume leadership will be to have you thrown in the dungeons."

"To join Malik perhaps."

"Since I doubt very much Malik belongs in prison, I doubt he will remain long. What crime did he commit that it was deemed for him to be there?"

"A murder." Smirked Abbas

"The murder of whom?" Maria snapped beside him.

"Sef." Abbas said almost coldly. "Malik murdered your son."

Maria was shaking as Altair looked up in something between horror and pain. "No."

"I am sorry, Altair." Abbas said. "I am sorry that you have returned to hear this most tragic news. And may I speak for us all assembled when I extend my sympathies to you and your family. But until certain matters are cleared up, it is impossible for you to resume leadership of the order."

Altair was still trying to unravel all in his head. He looked at him. "What of Amal?"

"She is being held as well. She was there when Malik killed Sef. She did nothing to prevent it so we can only assume she was part of it."

"What?" Altair said. "What?!"

"You remain compromised at this point." Abbas said calmly. "So I have taken the decision that control of the Order will remain with the Council for now."

Altair shook with fury. "_I_ am the Master of this Order, Abbas. I demand that the leadership is returned to me, in line with the statutes of the Brotherhood. They decree it be returned to me." He was shouting now and did not care.

Abbas smiled wolfishly. "They do not. Not anymore."

ZzZ

Altair and Maria were left alone with their grief for two days. They grieved at their lowly circumstances, the grieved that Masyaf had become so neglected in their absence, and most of all they grieved for their son.

He had been stabbed to death in his bed, they had said when Altair had questioned further. Just two weeks earlier, not time to relay a message to them. The knife had been discovered in Malik's quarters and it had been broken in the struggle. It was Malik's own dagger. They had showed them the blade and broken pommel stone. Altair knew it well as Malik's. Al Mualim had given it to him as a gift. It was still stained with black dried blood. Sef's blood.

An assassin had heard him arguing with Malik earlier that day. This same assassin had seen Malik affectionately touching Amal's cheek as they stood together. Sef had also had been said to have been arguing about that with Malik that she had a husband still and to be with another man was adultery. This source also knew Amal was often with Malik after dark and had been seen more than once leaving his chambers. Altair had yet to learn the name of this source; he had heard the heated discussion over Amal's virtue and the leadership of the Order. Malik claimed he intended to keep it once Altair returned.

"It was news of your return that sparked their disagreement, it would seem." Abbas said reveling in Altair's ashen look and the quiet weeping Maria.

Sef had been heard threatening to reveal Malik's plans to Altair and so Malik had killed him. Malik had been taken with his lover to the dungeons and held or so that was the theory. Altair sat thinking. He was twice betrayed. First by his former rival turned best friend and then by his daughter-in-law who had joined him in his schemes and in his bed. Robbed of her husband for ten years it were possible, but why would she betray her family? She loved Sef, almost as much as she loved Darim and as much as she loved Altair. They had always been close, what could have happened that she would have betrayed him and her husband.

Altair sighed. Beside him, Maria sobbed still her head tucked into his chest and her legs pulled up. Altair smoothed her hair and rocked her until she quieted, asleep presumably, and he watched the shadows cast by the light of the fire flicker and dance on the yellow stone wall of the residence, listening to the crickets from outside and the occasional crunch of the guards' footsteps.

Maria awoke with a start and he jumped looking down at her as the flames had also lulled him to sleep as well. She looked at him as she sat up wrapping a blanket about her shoulders. "What are you going to do, my love?" She asked him.

"Malik." He said simply. He was not looking at her or anything really. She was not really certain he had heard her question.

"What of him?"

"When I was younger, the assignment in the Temple of Solomon, my actions caused him a great deal of pain."

"But you learned." She said softly. "And Malik knew that. From that day, a new Altair was born who lead this Order to greatness."

Altair made a snorting sound of disbelief. "Greatness, really Maria?"

"Not now, my love." She said lifting a hand. "Maybe not now, but you can restore how it was before all of this. You are the only one who can do it. Not Abbas." She said his name as though she had eaten a bitter orange. "Not some council. You. Altair. The Altair I have watched serve the order for over thirty years. The Altair who was born the day his master killed him, made him a novice, and brought him back into the fold."

"It cost Malik his brother." Altair said. "And his arm, too."

"Though he has since forgiven you. And served you well as your trusted lieutenant ever since the defeat of Al Mualim."

"What if it was a façade, Maria?" Altair asked.

She jerked away from him. "What are you saying?"

"Perhaps Malik has nurtured a hatred of me all these years." He said shaking his head. "Perhaps he secretly coveted leadership and so he turned Amal against me and Darim. What if while his lover she helped him gain this goal? Then Sef discovered their plotting…"

"Yes, and perhaps I will grow wings and a voice in the night and sing to you like the nightingales." Maria said almost hostilely. "Who do you think really holds a hatred for you Altair? It is not Malik or Amal. It is Abbas."

"The knife was found in Malik's bed. It was his own knife. We saw it."

"Put there to implicate him. This assassin that heard them argue and saw him with Amal. Where is he I wonder? If she truly become his lover would there not be a child here of his blood? Is the witness a member of Abbas thrall and perhaps a son of a council member?" She looked at him. "Shame on you for thinking ill of Malik and your daughter-in-law."

"Shame on me?" He looked at her as if she had slapped him. He blinked at the rebuke. "I need to find out. I need to know. If Malik did kill Sef, I will execute him myself." He said. "And Amal with him if she had a part in it."

She lifted a hand. "If she carries a child, you must spare her. The lives of innocents must not be harmed." She reminded him.

"I know the Creed, Maria and if her belly is full of Malik's child she is twice guilty. Once for treason and once for adultery. Both will have her blood on my blade after she gives birth."

"She is the mother of your grandchildren."

"Who may have had a hand in the murder of her own friend and confidant."

"And if she did not. If she is innocent in all this and Malik as well."

"Then I will proclaim their innocence and release them."

Maria nodded.

ZzZ

Altair knew he was being watched.

He waited for a couple of days to make certain he was being watched. When he knew he was and whom was following him. They would be avoidable.

He moved quickly and quietly when he noted the person who was supposed to be watching him became interested in a bush nearby to prevent Altair from noticing him. With that Altair moved from his view and using the rooftops moved to the fortress. He knew Masyaf better than anyone since he had spent his youth climbing the walls to gain viewpoints of the area beyond.

He moved up the wall and squatted in the shadows as guards passed him, not noticing him in the dark. He controlled his breathing. He was still quick and agile and he could still climb and scale the walls, and yet…

Perhaps not with the ease he once did. His wound he had received would prevent him from moving with the grace he once had. He listened to the guards as he calculated his movements more than he ever had in his youth. He would be no use to anyone if he was dead.

He moved along the parapet to the citadel and then down to ground level avoiding guards the whole time. He found the grain stores and moved to the side where there were steps that led to the tunnels below. He paused, back to the wall. There was only the sound of the small streams of water in the tunnels. The Orders dungeons were so rarely used that they too would have been used for storage had it not been for the dank and damp of the tunnels.

He moved and could see the guard. He was sitting with his back to the side wall of the cell block, his head lolled in sleep. He was away from the cells and did not have an eye line on what he was guarding. Altair found himself simultaneously outraged and relieved at the man's sloppiness. Altair moved quickly bit him his feet making so little sound it was masked by the sound of the water.

Of the three cells the middle was locked. Malik was curled up on the small pallet that had been provided for him. Nearby was another one, but it was empty. The smell was unnerving. The smell of someone who had not bathed was bad enough, but it was clear no one had emptied the toilet bucket in days, perhaps longer. Altair covered his nose a moment in spite of himself.

Malik was clothed in rags or rather what had been his robes and black over garment that marked him as a high ranking member of the order. Through his tattered and threadbare shirt he could see the lines of Malik's ribs. His cheekbones were sharp bony outcrops on his face and his hair had grown long as had his beard. He had been in the cell far longer than a couple weeks, even longer than a month certainly.

It was not anger that filled Altair's heart at that moment, but pity. How long had he been sent to rot here? Long enough to have a message sent? Altair did not want to think about the implications. He was not about to allow his friend to remain there, however.

The guard opened his eyes and saw Altair standing over him. He then knew no more as Altair rendered him unconscious. He dragged him to the cell, opened the door, and laid the man in the other pallet. When he woke he would be alone in the urine and feces stinking cell.

Altair turned to Malik. He gently shook his shoulder. It was bone in his hands with hardly muscle. "Amal?" Malik asked hopefully.

Altair's eyes narrowed. Was it true then that Malik and Amal were lovers?

Dropping his flash of anger, Altair leaned close. "Can you walk, my friend?" He asked.

The eyes opened and looked up at Altair as if he could not focus. When he finally did the look of relief and gratitude made Altair forget even the slightest doubts he had about his friend. He coughed a little and sat up slowly. "For you, I can walk." He said. He managed a small weak smile.

"Where is Amal?" Altair said.

"Not here." Malik said walking with Altair.

As they made their way through the tunnels it became clear that Malik did not have the strength to walk. Altair put his good arm around him and lifted him into his arms. The man had lost so much weight it was like carrying a small child out of the tunnels. Altair moved stealthy back to his home carrying the man.

Once there Altair laid the man down on the pallet gently. Maria came to his side giving him a beaker and holding it to his lips of life-giving water.

"Thank you." He said in a hoarse whisper to her when he had his fill. His eyes had cleared a little. He pulled himself up on the bed, made uncomfortable by Maria's proximity, as though he thought it dishonorable to be tended by her. He made no motion to fight her as she moved to treat the rat bites on his legs. He took a breath. "Where is Amal? What have they done with her?"

"We were told she was with you." Maria said.

"She was for a time after she tried to rescue me and kill Abbas."

Altair knelt close. "What happened to Sef?"

"Murdered." Malik said. "Two years ago, Abbas staged his coup. He had Sef killed, then placed the murder weapon, my own knife, broken as it was in the struggle during the murder in my study. The stone was left on the body to be found." He took a breath and coughed lightly. "Another assassin swore he'd heard Sef and I arguing and Abbas brought the Order to the conclusion that it was I who responsible for your son's death."

Altair felt like the room was closing in on him. He blinked. "And Amal? Abbas told us that you were lovers and you planned a coup against me with her."

"Lies." Malik said. "I have a wife and child whom Amal sent away from here when she heard of your return to keep them safe. She had Abbas' ear for a time, but that has changed suddenly and she stopped coming to see me and bring food. She told me once Abbas was trying to win her over. She was resisting."

Altair swallowed. Two people he had allowed hate in his heart to grow for and the two had never betrayed him. He looked to Maria. Two years their son had been dead. Rage started to build within Altair, white and hot, and he fought to control it and the impulse to turn, leave the room, go to the fortress, and cut Abbas then watch him be for mercy as he slowly bled to death as Altair watched.

Maria put a hand on his arm, feeling and sharing in his pain. "Is she still captive?"

"I can only assume so. She worried once he would take her to kill her." He swallowed. "I fear other punishments have happened to her."

"Such as?" Altair asked looking at him.

"She is a woman and if he fathered a child on her, he would have a claim to the Order though her as a master and as your daughter-in-law."

Maria looked at him disgusted. "You speak of rape."

"Abbas is capable of it. He plotted to have me here for the death of your son. Who knows how far he would go." Malik said. His shoulders slumped. "I am sorry, Altair. There was nothing I could do to send a message while in prison and Amal likely could not either with him watching her like a hawk. Besides, Abbas controlled all communication in and out of the fortress. No doubt he has been changing our laws to benefit him." He said bitterly.

"He has." Altair nodded. "It seems he has supports on the council."

Malik looked up at him. "I am sorry, Altair. I should have anticipated Abbas' plans. For years after your departure he worked to undermine me. I had no idea he had managed to command such support, but he had. It would not have happened to a stronger leader. It would not have happened to you." He coughed and the fit made his whole body shake.

Maria offered him more water and he took it gratefully and he sighed.

Altair patted his shoulder softly. "Do not trouble yourself. Rest, my friend." Altair said and he motioned to his wife.

In the next room, the pair said, Maria on the bench facing Altair who was in a high backed chair.

"Do you know what you have to do?" Maria asked her husband.

"I have to destroy Abbas." Altair said his fists balling together.

"But not for the purpose of vengeance, my love." She tried to soothe. "Think more clearly. Let us bide out time for a time and see how to proceed. We can nurse Malik so he can testify."

He nodded. "You are right, my love." He sighed and leaned forward to kiss her gently before looking back at the sleeping form of Malik.

His poor frail friend.


	23. Confrontations

Hope - Chapter 23 – Confrontations – 1228

Altair and Maria spent much of the day helping Malik recover.

It would take more than a day for the frail imprisoned man to gain his strength back, but they were able to allow him to bathe and have a fresh set of clothing, something he had not had in more than a year.

Leaving Malik in the care of Maria as he slept, Altair went to gather information. He learned after sneaking into the fortress again that there had been much more at stake than just Masyaf. Cyrus had fallen to the Templars among other things. Still a lean and limber man, though in his sixties, he was still a match for any within the walls though he did not wish to provoke a fight.

On the word of Malik, Altair went and found the journal that Amal had been keeping. She had kept it with her in the cell, but on the last day when she had told Malik that perhaps that was the day she would die, she brought it with her and had dropped it in the library among some other books. It was easy enough to find once he avoided the guards. The binding was far newer and her script was nothing like those of the Mentors before.

Altair felt his heart harden as he took the book to a quiet bench outside the fortress to read it. Abbas had been trying to win her over with gifts and asking repeatedly where the books of the treasury were. She revealed them in a type of code to the reader, one Altair understood for he had taught her to use the cipher should there ever be a problem in which she needed to communicate with him without others knowing. She had written this for him. The girl had learned well from him and the book was damning.

He set it to the side and sighed looking down as he put his hands together. After sometime he heard footfalls. He looked up and found the company some he wanted. Maria, his beloved wife, came to him, her footfalls soft in the grass.

"Does he sleep?"

"Yes." She said. "What has happened?" She asked seeing his look.

"The Templars have retaken their archive on Cyprus. Abbas sent no reinforcements. It was a massacre."

"Oh my God." She gasped dropping to kneel before him her face full of anguish. They had married there to pay homage to the people who had been kind to them for liberating the people. Now that was in ruins.

"When we left ten years ago, this order was strong. But all of our progress has been undone." He lifted the small book. "These words make my heart angry to read." He took a breath. "I know that Sef died on the order of Abbas and how he died. It was not in his bed, but in the open defending himself." He took a breath to calm himself.

"Abbas must answer for this."

"Answer to whom?" He asked testily as he rose to his feet. "The assassins only obey his command now."

She looked at him and rose. "Resist your desire for revenge, Altair. Speak the truth and they will see their error." She said watching him walk away from her.

He turned to her, eyes flashing. "He executed our youngest son, Maria, he deserves to die!" He growled spreading his hands.

"Perhaps, but if you do not win back the Brotherhood through honorable means, its foundations will crumble."

He took a breath and stepped to her. She was always the voice of reason on his heart. That was why he loved her so. She would speak her mind without fear with him and gently calm him. He sighed. "You are right." He said finally. "Thirty years ago I let passion overrun my reason. It created a rift that has never fully healed."

He touched her face gently and she leaned into the caress. "We need to face him on this." She said.

He nodded. "Yes."

She turned to walk toward the fortress. "Speak reasonably and reasonable men will listen."

"Some will, but not Abbas. I should have expelled him thirty years ago when he tried to steal the Apple." Altair said walking beside her.

"But you gained the respect of the assassins because you let him stay."

"How do you know this? You were not there." He said looking at her.

She smiled a little looking up at him. "I married a masterful storyteller."

He took a breath and then looked about. Assassins were milling around the courtyard, but there was no swordplay, no barks from instructors, and no sounds of anything. Silence. "Look at this place. Masyaf is a shadow of its former self." He said looking about.

"We have been away for a long time." Maria said looking around as well.

"But not in hiding." Altair said. "The Mongol threat demanded out attention and we rode to meet it. Who here can say the same?"

Maria took a breath and shook her head. "Where is our eldest son? Does Darim know his brother is dead?"

"I sent a message for him after we learned of his death. With luck it has reached him already." He said.

They entered the library and the back gate, wrought of metal and glass lifted to reveal the back gardens of the fortress. They walked to it and out blinking in the bright sunshine.

"Abbas. I almost pity him. He wears his grudge like a cloak." Altair said.

"His wound is deep. It will help him to hear the truth."

"As I walk these streets I feel a great fear in the people, not love." The assassins had once been the protectors and had on many times protected the Levant from Templars and others to keep the people safe. The people used to love them and now, things had changed.

"Abbas has dismantled this place and robbed of all the joy."

Altair took a breath. "We may be walking to our doom, Maria."

"We may, but we walk together." She said reaching for his hand. He took it and squeezed it a moment before releasing it to continue.

They walked to the lower garden. To the one side was the brink of the waterfall that dropped deep into the canyon below. The other side was a tranquil garden, but there was uneasiness in the air. Maria and Altair noted there were several assassins standing to the side. They looked relaxed, but as with Altair, they were fully armed and ready.

Before them stood Abbas and Swami. Swami held a bound figure and Altair's eyes flashed when he saw who it was. Amal was bound and gagged as she was held, knife to her throat by Abbas' lackey. She looked up and the look of joy and relief in her eyes at seeing Altair caught him. As he drew closer her could see the bruising on her that was starting to fade and bruising on her bare arms. She was wearing the clothing of a novice; again Abbas was asserting his power in everything.

As Maria and Altair came forward Abbas lifted a hand to Swami. "Let them speak." He said.

Altair watched them anger starting to build, but for now he remained calm. "We seek the truth about our son's death. Why was Sef killed?"

"Is it the truth you want or an excuse, for revenge?" Abbas asked.

"If the truth gives us an excuse, than we will act upon it." Maria said angrily.

Abbas looked at the bound girl. "Clearly you already have." Swami shoved the girl to her knees before Abbas. She yelped a bit finding a fresher bruise as she landed using her bound hands to try and catch her fall. Swami held a bag and Abbas took it.

"Poor Malik." He said lifting his dead from the sack. Malik's eyes were rolled up and his severed neck dripped with fresh blood. Amal's eyes widened in horror.

Altair gasped. "No!"

"You freed him from the dungeons to kill him and you had your bitch of a lap dog do it for you while you were out of the house to make yourself look innocent. Swami found her walking back to find you carrying the sack as your proof. In my day we used feathers, but apparently you wanted to truly know the man who killed your son was dead."

Swami nodded. "She put up a fight too. Apparently, Darim likes wildcats. She fights like one." He said.

The assassins nearby looked at each other. The severed head and the girl who had clearly been in a fight was adding to the guilt that Abbas had already started to play into to warp their minds against their Mentor.

"That is a lie!" Maria gasped.

Abbas grabbed the girl to him and held her as he held a dagger to her throat after tossing the sack to the side. Altair watched and felt his blood boil. Assassins never showed disregard to those they had killed. He watched Abbas with a growing hatred.

"Surrender the Apple, Altair, and I will tell you why your son had to be put to death." He smiled coldly. "I will even give you the girl if you wish." He said holding her so the knife nicked her skin.

"Ah, the truth is out already." Altair said. "Abbas wants the Apple for himself. He does not wish to open your minds, but control them."

Abbas growled. "You have held that artifact for thirty-years, Altair! Reveling in its power and hording its secrets!" He looked at the girl. "It has corrupted you."

Altair looked at him. He was formulating a plan in his head. He took it from his pouch and lifted it. "Very well Abbas. Take it." He said lifting it.

"What?" Maria asked stunned watching her husband carefully. Surely, he could not be serious.

Abbas nodded to Swami to take the artifact as he held the girl. Altair stood, hand out watching the younger man.

Swami sheathed his sword and walked toward Altair a smirk on his face. He got close enough to whisper so that only Altair could hear him. "Before I executed your son, I told him you ordered it yourself. He died believing you had betrayed him."

Altair's eyes flashed as he lifted the Apple. His hate and anger poured into the artifact as it began to glow. Swami cried out as his hand went to his belt and lifted knife. He looked at it in horror as Altair stood watching him. The blade cut his cheeks and then his chest and the man cried out in pain.

Near him Abbas gasped feeling the power of the Apple once again on his mind. He put his hands to his head, holding it. Amal jumped away from him. She twisted her wrist and freed herself now that she was not being held and looked about. A guard moved to block her path and she jumped on him as he froze seeing the Apple's bright light, Altair's face, and Swami cutting himself. Amal used his distractedness to her advantage as she twisted his neck hard and it snapped. She panted and lowered her gag and collected his weapons, including his hidden blade and knives. She then moved to the wall and began to scale it before Abbas realized his pawn was missing.

"Altair!" Maria cried watching in horror.

Still Altair continued.

"Altair, no!" She gasped tugging on his sleeve. He finally paused and looked at her. Swami's knife was poised at his throat, but suddenly he was in control again as Altair calmed a fraction as he looked at his wife. The light died about them, but Swami growled and stabbed forward, aiming for Altair, but stabbing Maria in the back instead.

Maria gasped and arched against her husband who caught her to him. His face twisted as he stabbed Swami in the face with his hidden blade so quick, the younger man did not have time to react. Swami fell backwards, blood spurting from his wound. He coughed and died, blood running from his lips.

Altair gently lowered his wife to the earth as he felt is heart becoming a ball of ice. She was gasping for air and he gently held her head his face close as though he were about to kiss her. She then looked up at him quaking a little. "Strength, Altair." She murmured and then her eyes rolled back and she died with one final shiver.

He looked at her and cupped her head looking at the face of his beloved. "Maria…" was all he managed in an anguished whisper. He closed her eyes and let her head gently rest in the grass as he looked about his breath coming in gasps.

"He is possessed! Kill him!" Abbas cried.

Altair rose to his full impressive height and took a breath. His eyes were cold as he looked at Abbas ready to advance on him and kill him.

"Take the Apple! NOW!" Abbas called to the assassins as they stood looking at their former mentor in fear. Altair put the Apple in his clothing and then turned to the assassins who all held swords at the ready.

"Archers!" Abbas barked backing away for he knew the murderous look on the former mentor's face.

Several archers appeared on the rooftop and fired. All missed due to Altair moving quickly from their aim, but one. It scrapped against his cheek like fire and tore his hood from one archer whom had checked his aim.

He looked up as he ran toward the assassins on the ground. He stabbed one in the face with his two hidden blades. As a master he had learned to use two of the weapons and they were highly effective for close combat. Ignoring the sting on his face, he fought the group. They fought well, but lacked the master assassin's skills in combat and lacked the ability to judge and gauged actions. These would have been sent back to being initiates under Al Mualim for not knowing their surroundings and not using them to their advantage.

Another arrow landed near him. He dropped another assassin. All of them feel to Altair's superior skills and then he looked up. The archers were dead, one had fallen from the roof. He blinked. Who had…? No time.

He ran toward his escape and found his way blocked again. He fought the threat and killed them all. Making his way into the library there were more there who ambushed him. He took two more lives before running up the stairs to the great window. He leapt through it knowing few would follow him.

He landed on the earth with a grunt and looked about the courtyard as glass dropped about him. He then moved to exit the main gate and down into the village. He passed several villagers, pushing passed them in his hurry.

The entire brotherhood was against him. He needed to flee.

He ran into the market and saw a familiar looking figure coming towards him. He gasped. He well knew that face for it was his own, just set on a taller more muscular body.

It was Darim.

"Father." Darim said running up to him. "I got your message. What has happened?" He asked.

Altair pressed his son backwards as assassins became visible around them. "Darim, turn back!" He barked.

"Have they all gone mad?" Darim asked looking at the men he once knew as brothers gathering.

"We have to go! Abbas must not get his hands on the Apple."

Darim watched and then nodded. He then unslung on of his belts of throwing knives. "If you need more knives, take them." He said.

"They will try to ambush us. Keep a good supply of knives with you, my son."

Together they ran into the village looking for horses so they could escape.

"Above you!" Darim said leaping on an assassin who had come from around a building and using his hidden blade to dispatch him. Altair looked up and threw a knife at a man crouched on the roof waiting. He fell to the earth.

"We'll try to work our way around. There are horses in the village. Once we have mounts we can make for the coast." Altair said grimly.

Darim nodded standing. He had been too preoccupied with their immediate danger to notice anything else. "Where is mother?"

Altair shook his head sadly as he threw another knife ahead of them into the face of an oncoming assassin. "She is gone Darim. I am sorry."

Darim took a breath. "What? How?"

"Later." Altair said. "We will speak on this later. For now, we fight."

ZzZ

Abbas fumed as he barked orders to the assassins to find Altair and bring him his head.

As the groups moved away he saw something moving along the parapet. He followed and then noticed as he followed onto the bench that the cloaked figure was a woman and she was moving along. She was making ready to jump to a roof.

He growled and threw a knife at her, aiming for her chest, but she moved just in time, not knowing the danger. She landed awkwardly on the roof with a grunt. She looked down. The knife had grazed her side. She would live, but it hurt. For now, she cared not as she moved to join her father-in-law.

ZzZ

Altair and Darim were surrounded by assassins in one quarter.

"Brothers, we need not fight!" Darim pleaded as the group closed in.

"Forget reason, Darim, they have been poisoned by lies." Altair said.

They fought them. Altair closed with one assassin, but he felt the breeze and heard the whistle of an arrow near him. He ducked and then looked up and saw the man reaching for his face as he dropped backwards, an arrow in his eye, through his brain.

He turned expecting an enemy with poor aim, but as he scanned the rooftops he saw a figure moving between them, a bow slung on narrow shoulders and moving. She found another vantage point and dropped another who was after Darim while he fought another.

"Amal…" He whispered.

Darim and Altair finished the rest of the group and Altair looked up for Amal. She had vanished. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? He looked as he began to run and follow Darim. No. Several of the group had fallen to her bow.

Altair and Darim ran further toward the gate, but found their way blocked. Darim doubled back and moved up a low rise. Finding that way blocked as well they were forced to fight several. They then leapt from a wall to a roof and both did leaps of faith into a pile of hay.

As they walked out, Darim looked grimly at his father. "Was it Abbas who killed my brother?"

"He killed your brother, Malik, and countless others."

"He is a madman." Darim hissed.

"A madman with an army." Altair said grimly seeing several assassins closing in on them.

"He will die. One day he will pay." Darim vowed as he made ready to fight.

Altair heard something to his side and lifted his blade. A form straightened near him from jumping down from a roof. Two hands spread from a petite form. "Could you use some help father?" She asked.

Altair gazed at her a moment. She was still youthful in her face, but the years of being oppressed had lined it. Darim stared at her and she dipped her head. "My love!" He gasped.

"Not now, Darim." She hissed looking at the group coming for them.

Altair nodded. "You are always welcome, daughter."

She nodded. She drew her bow and holding her arrows killed three assassins as they ran forward in short order. She then joined her husband and father-in-law in a fight for their very lives. The three fought hard, all three superior to those they faced, but the assassins had numbers.

As Amal lifted herself from plunging her blade into the back of a brother, Darim nodded to them, looking almost sadly at the bodies in their wake. "It is time to go." He said.

Altair and Amal nodded. All three had their own blood leaking from minor wounds and the blood of their enemies on them. They all ran toward the stables on the outskirts of town. The assassins were looking for them and they could hear them barking back and forth as they searched.

Darim saddled a horse as did Altair. Amal stood as look out as they hurriedly worked.

There were only two horses, but it was no matter. Amal looked at them as she drew herself up. "I will draw their attention. You must flee." She said. She lifted her bow. She was willing to sacrifice herself for them. They were far more valuable than she was as far as she was concerned.

"Nonsense." Darim said. "You are coming with us." He said lifting a hand to her cheek. His look told her that he had just gotten her back and he was not about to let her go, especially not to the wolves who pursued them.

She shook her head. "There are only two horses and…"

Altair rounded on her. "I have already lost a woman I love today to this madman, Amal. I will not lose another." He growled at her. "You will ride with Darim. Keep your bow ready." He ordered as he mounted.

Amal nodded as she shut her mouth. Altair's voice was cold and that of a mentor not a man in mourning. Darim mounted and he lifted a hand to Amal and freed a stir-up. She climbed up behind him hissing in pain, but ignored it and Darim's look of concern as they rode from the barn. Her small hands reached around and took hold of his waist to hold on. He touched them briefly as though he needed to feel that she was really there with him. She sighed and held on knowing soon, at a gallop, he would be the only thing keeping her on other than her own balance. She moved closer to him so her thighs rested against the back of his own in the saddle. Between them was the saddle back, but she ignored it pressing against her for now.

"It is nothing." She said waving it off. It was bleeding openly on her side, but she ignored the stinging pain for now. Altair had his own wound on his cheek that he was ignoring as well.

As they rode from the city gate they could hear Abbas' yell behind them. "I will have the Apple, Altair! And I will have your HEAD for all the dishonor you have brought upon my family! You cannot run forever! Not from us and not from your lies!"

His voice faded as they galloped away. Amal held tightly to her husband's waist as he leaned forward over the horse's neck. She leaned with him feeling the comfort of his warmth and smell she had not been around in more than a decade.

Two men had pursued them. A crossbow bolt whizzed past Altair's shoulder and he looked back.

"Amal!" He barked.

Amal had sat up and letting her husband guide the mount, she used her bow to take first one and then the other out. Darim sat up so she could brace against him as she took her aim. On horseback was a skill which they both possessed, but Amal had a bow.

It was nearly ten kilometers before they reined in. No one else- as of yet- was pursuing them. They had gained time. Darim, riding behind him, noticed his father sat slumped in the saddle, exhausted and anguished. His own wife was clinging tightly to him and letting her forehead rest against his shoulder. She was no doubt exhausted as well. They all were.

Darim spurred his horse closer and looked into Altair's face with concern. "Father?"

Altair sat low, hunched, on the verge of tears. Darim had never seen his father so. He swallowed as he heard his father murmur. "Maria. My love…"

"Come father." Darim said gently. "We must ride on." He said.

Altair looked up at him a moment. He then nodded. His son was right.

Amal shifted and Darim looked back at her and tenderly patted her hands that rested on his abdomen in comfort.

With a supreme effort, Altair kicked his horse into a gallop, and they sped away, specks disappearing into the forbidding landscape that was the Levant.


	24. Finding a Way

Hope - Chapter 24 – Finding a Way

It was nearing sundown when Altair started looking for shelter. They needed water for the horses and game for them to eat. They were far enough away that Abbas would never reach them before nightfall and passage in the sands during the day was traitorous enough let alone adding darkness to it.

Oasis areas were all over the seemingly bare landscape of wind and sand. Those who knew would travel to the coast for a time. Altair knew that Abbas would look for him on the roads to Alamut, hoping to intercept him, but not realizing that Altair intended to first go to Damascus and then use a boat to get to Persia before riding to the fortress of the Persian Assassins. He well knew they would shelter him and Abbas would know better than to cross them.

Altair intended to travel the less traveled roads to Tripoli and then take a boat to Cyprus, Rhodes, Constantinople, and around to a port city in the black sea. From there they would ride through the mountains of Georgia to the Caspian Sea and take a ship down to Alamut. It would take months, but would make it so Abbas would become bored with the chase and more importantly, so would his followers.

Though Abbas held the council and the brotherhood, he still knew nothing of loyalty and how to keep the Order in check. He would perhaps learn or it would be his downfall. Meanwhile, Altair could bide his time.

Altair looked beside him at the pair on their weary mount. The horse had carried the pair of them from Masyaf and it needed to be looked after if they were to continue. Darim directed it along the sand. One hand held the reins and the other hand rested on one of his wife's that was relaxed on his thighs. They had fallen from his waist. Altair smiled. The pair had a bit of a road ahead of them, but they would be well. Part of him was jealous. Darim had his love returned to him while Altair's had been stolen, but then again, Altair had had Maria at his side on the Mongolia campaign and his son had never had the comfort of a woman. He could have had more than a dozen, in fact several of the women of Qulan Gal's family and camp had tried to win him over, but Darim had resisted wanting to remain to remain true to the woman he had left behind, though, Altair had to admit, it could not have been easy and some of the women were very attractive and had Maria not been there he would have been tempted.

Amal was leaning against her husband once more. Darim wondered as her arms slackened, if she slept. He would keep her there mounted with him. Even asleep she her body's proximity made him happy. He had not been close to a woman in over a decade and to be close to his wife made him want to kiss her senseless and make love to her, but he knew he needed to be slow. Eleven years was a long time and he would need to be like the boy who had wooed her at first.

He reflected on that. They had been married before anyone spoke of love. They had grown to love each other deeply and he had fathered five children on her, three of which now lived. They had been married now for seventeen years. He swallowed. More than half of that time he had been away from her. He had remained loyal to her and she to him. It surprised him. He would not have blamed her if she had taken a lover to feel some sort of emotional connection, but just as he had not, she had not. It made him love her all the more. He caressed her knuckles a little and felt her shifted her face against his shoulder. She settled back then and he smiled.

They both were older, wiser, and not as impulsive as they once had been. By her look, he knew she still loved him, but they needed to again trust each other to allow themselves to again be lovers once more. The trust there was not lost, but it had faded and they both knew it and needed to rebuild it. It would not take long now that they were again together, but it would not be instantaneous either.

They reached a small wadi at sunset. There was a well nearby and a small oasis from a spring that no doubt fed the well. Altair dismounted and looked about. The well had a tribal marker, but he knew the sheik who owned it. The man had a son in the order and would be all too willing to help the Mentor, though Altair suspected the relationship with the Levant had become somewhat strained recently.

Altair went to draw water and make trap for game, anything to take his mind from the death his wife. He could not really face that yet and he hid his emotions for now. For now he needed to be safe away from Abbas' tyranny. They would travel by sea to

Darim shifted and looked back at his wife. "Amal?" He said gently. He reached a hand back to gently touch her hip.

He felt her wake. She sat up straighter and her hands moved higher on his chest to steady herself. She then moved one to her head. Her vision swam as she looked about. Her side ached and when she touched it, she hissed quietly.

Darim dismounted, swinging his leg over the horse's neck. He dropped beside the nickering horse and then walked a few steps to stretch his legs before moving back to his wife. Having traveled by horse for years now, his legs had become accustomed to it, but he doubted his wife was so fortunate. She had turned so she was sitting on the back of the horse ready to jump down. Putting his hands under her arms, he lifted her up.

She was smaller than he remembered, petite, lithe, and almost child-like in stature, but her eyes told her years and what she had witnessed. He held her a moment longer than was necessary. He set her down on her feet and stood away smiling at her a little. She stood a moment and took a couple of steps before dropping heavily to her knees. Darim was at her side almost instantly looking at her face as she fought to remain conscious.

"Amal?"

"I am find give me a moment." She said putting a hand on the sand. The other she brushed over her eyes. She then looked up at him. "My side. I think I may have been cut by something on a building."

He nodded as he let her drop her head into his lap as he looked at her side in question as she rolled to her side slightly. Her side was dark from the blood she had lost. It had dropped to her stomach and hip from a wound just below her ample breasts. "You are wounded." He said softly.

"Not badly. A scrape." She said.

"You have lost quite a bit of blood." He looked at her gently. "Let me clean and bind it for you." He said. He removed his travel cloak and laid it down as he folded it. He gently lifted her head and laid her head on it as he moved so he could see the wound better to assess the damage.

She nodded and he took a hold of the cloth and ripped it from her breast to her hip using the hole the object had cut through. He looked at it in the low light. The area was dark with dried blood and he took a water skin and gently washed the blood, dried and fresh away from her skin. Once clean and only a small amount of fresh blood sprang forth he probed the wound gently with his fingers to check for objects. She hissed a little in pain, but did not draw away from his gentle fingers.

He noted his father was leading the mounts to the water. The wadi was too small for crocodiles to take up residence and so he let the horses drink as he hobbled them. They could eat the grasses nearby as well. They would not go far on the desert.

Altair then sat by the small pond and began to make a trap. He had seen small game here and he likely catch it. He also would gather wood for a fire. Though it was still fall, the nights would be chilled. He looked back at his son. Amal was lying on her side as Darim leaned over her. Even from where he was he could see the dried blood that dyed the white robe crimson.

Darim reached into the pack on his back and pulled out cloth that had been cut for bandages. He smeared a thicker one with a salve and then pressed it to the cut. It was clean edged, not torn as it would have been otherwise. It was a knife wound, but he had not seen her take a hit from one as they fought. He then realized it had to have been thrown at her by the angle. The part of the wound at the back was deeper where it had hit her flesh and got shallower toward the front where it had been spinning, grazing her. It had no doubt turned against her ribs and defected off. Darim was thankful for the poor aim of the wielder as well as Amal's agility for clearly she had been moving when she had been hit.

He then wrapped a long strip about her body to bind it in place under her clothing. He could see the side of her breast and resisted the temptation to touch it. This was hardly a time to make an advance. As he reached around her, he was aware of her watching, arm up, hardly breathing at his proximity. He finally tied the two ends of the cloth and sat back looking at her. He looked up at her eyes a moment. "It is not deep." He said. "Just a graze."

She nodded. "Thank you, husband." She said. "That was gently done."

He smiled a little and he washed the blood from his hands. She had called him husband, not his name. Soon he hoped she would call him love and other names of affection as he would call her. He hoped he would win her heart back soon. He had missed her laugh, smile, and gentle nature that also had a bite to it. She was not a woman who would simply allow a man to have his way with her and have his word as law. She had her own mind and thankfully used it. Soon. Slowly at first and then as their love blossomed again he would use more words that he once had with her, the words of lovers and life-mates. His hand lifted her cheek again in a soft gesture that gave them both hope as she leaned against his palm a moment.

He reached into his pack and found some dried meat. The people of the Steppe were fond of dried smoked meat. It was good and it offered much needed protein to the person. He offered her a piece. She needed nourishment.

She thanked him and took it in her small hands. He sat back with one as well. He well knew the flavor having survived on them for years now. He chewed, his bright eyes taking in the area around them. They were alone, surrounded by sand and stones. The desert of the Levant was foreboding, but would aide them as they fled.

She chewed on it experimentally and then found she liked it. It was salty and the taste of the fire and meat helped stave off the hunger pains in her stomach. She had not eaten in nearly two days due to Abbas' delusions and growing paranoia. Her stomach growled and she gasped and colored that he could see even in as the area began to darken.

Altair returned to them his arms laden with dried wood to make a fire. He knelt down setting his burden down. He made a hole in the sand and then stacked his wood. The Mongol assassin Qulan Gal had taught them how to make a fire as efficient as possible due to the lack of materials, though muskox droppings, once dried worked well as well as peat.

He struck a stone causing a spark that ignited the kindling. He pushed it into the middle of the stack of thin logs and watched them catch. Already the night chill was upon them. He rubbed his hands together and then nodded to Amal.

"Come, child, you must warm yourself." He said.

She nodded coming closer. Her husband pulled his cloak back on as he moved to fetch what little supplies they had from the horses. They would find a town by midday tomorrow and they could restock some supplies while remaining light and find new clothing for Amal.

Altair sat back, alone in his own thoughts as she lifted her hands to warm them. She then saw the dried blood on her father-in-law's face. She found a small piece of cloth and the salve Darim had used. She moved and gently touched his shoulder. Startled he looked up at her, but neither said a word. He had not heard or seen her move, but he realized he was so far in his mind at that moment that he had taken no notice.

He looked at her from under his cowl a moment. This girl he had married to his son and now was a woman whom he realized he did not know as well as he wished. She had been married for six years before he had taken her husband and Maria with him. They returned eleven years later to find her grown into the beautiful woman she was to be. Beautiful and deadly. She was an assassin after all and a Master of the craft and yet as such she well knew she had much to learn. Her olive skin, long lashes, petite frame, and high cheek bones made her attractive, but he realized it was her eyes that were captivating. They held the truth of the years she had lived and the sorrow she held now.

She looked at him now, not with pity, but a sad heart. She too was in mourning and he watched her movements as she cocked her head at him surveying his face and the wound.

She lifted her hands up and gently lowered it revealing his short salted dark hair and beard. For a man of over sixty years he was still remarkably handsome, though the lines of time lined his face. Part of her smiled. Darim would follow his father and still be remarkably handsome in his elder years as well. His dark eyes followed her every movement, but he said nothing. His skin was almost the color of bronze in the light from the fire.

She wetted the cloth and gently wiped the blood from his cheek and neck. It had stopped bleeding, but still the blood had run and soiled the collar of his hood. He watched her, allowing her administrations. It was nice to be in her care, he had to admit. She then dried the skin and pressed the healing salve to the wound. She inspected her work and then he turned his head fully to her. Those dark eyes could undo men with a look, but she was unafraid.

"This will scar." She said softly turning to wash the blood from her fingers.

He nodded and shrugged. "What is one scar more on an assassin's body?" He asked her.

She nodded and moved away from him as he pulled his cowl over his head again, far over his face as he watched the flames. Amal sat watching the flames as well after she had settled. She heard footfalls and looked up to see her husband returning to them.

"There are no blankets." He said sitting down between them.

"No matter. I will not be sleeping anyway." Altair said. "I will keep watch. You two should try to rest."

"But, Father, you are exhausted." Amal said. "We all are."

He shook his head. "I will not sleep." He said this time with more force. Perhaps more than he meant to.

Darim gently lifted a hand as she made move to protest. He knew his father well and she sighed sitting back. He offered her more meat sticks and turned to his father. Altair took several and chewed one watching the flames.

Amal sighed and shivered as she moved as close as she dared to the flames. She had only the light cloak of an assassin guard's uniform. Darim had been sitting watching the flames like his father, but he noticed her moving trying to figure out a way to become comfortable. Once asleep it would matter little as exhausted as she was. She just did not like the idea of sand in her hair. A trivial thing she knew. She relented finally and wrapped the light cloth about herself as she laid down on her arm.

"Are you cold, Habibti?" Darim asked watching her.

She nodded a little. He removed his cloak and laid it over her as he moved behind her. It was warm from his body heat and she sighed. It bore his scent and the scent of horses. She looked back as he moved toward the fire.

"Darim?" She said softly.

He looked back at her and cocked his head.

"You need warmth as well."

"I will manage." He smiled. It was hardly a chore. They had had much colder nights on the Steppe with little more than a cloak to ward off the chill from snow and wind. He shifted again, but movement caught his eye.

She shook her head and lifted the cloak edge. He looked at his father who was deep in his own thoughts. He relented and went to her. It would at least bring her comfort. He sighed. Having her near would comfort him as he started to realize his mother truly was dead as Altair was. He laid behind her on his side pulling the cloak over him as well. He remained a little back from her until she reached for his hand and pulled him closer. He sighed and relaxed, his body touching hers as she settled into sleep, his arm resting on her hip. He had not expected her to be so bold as to have him that close, but he accepted it and settled into sleep as well. The hypnotic flames lulled him to sleep while his father kept watch.

Altair looked at the pair near him. Darim and she were sharing the travel cloak. Altair well knew Darim had given it to her. He watched them both fall asleep and he shook his head. The slight flare of jealousy needed to end. Darim deserved to have his wife back in his heart, arms, and bed after such a long absence. It was clear Amal was willing to allow him near her.

Altair turned back to the fire, deep in thought as to how the betrayal had happened and the death of his wife. Maria's bright eyes so full of pain as she tried to breathe and died in his arms. He would never forget the pain he felt now. Never.

ZzZ

The next morning the fire was embers and the dawn greeted them. Altair had gone to check his traps. Two had caught hares and the others had nothing. He butchered the animals and then stirred the coals to cook them for breakfast. They all needed the nourishment. He did not really feel like eating, but he well knew he needed to keep his strength up.

Amal had woken to him stirring. She could not move. She was on her back with Darim's arm about her chest, just under her breasts and dangerously close to her wound, pinning her as he slept on his side beside her. His possessiveness made her smile a little. She turned her head and smiled. In sleep his face looked so boyish still.

She gently reached down and moved his arm. He woke almost instantly and his hand curled under her drawing her closer. She smiled and sat up. She hissed a little as the wound tugged. His eyes opened and he realized his arm was now on her lap. He lifted away and was saddened by the loss of contact.

Amal sighed and then looked across the wadi. "We have company." She said softly.

Darim was on his feet as was Altair as the dust cloud moved closer. Darim went to the horses and brought them closer to their small camp. Amal took her bow and stood relaxed and watchful as the pair of men stood beside her.

They could the soft clank of bells as the dust cloud became closer. Both men were relaxed, but were like vipers, coiled and ready to strike if threatened.

The wadi was then surrounded by goats and sheep bleating to each other as they wanted. The sound of their bells made Altair smile a little.

A shepherd.

The humans came into view. Several young men and then an elder among them appeared. Altair instantly knew this man was the sheik by his garb and quickly moved to greet them. He stepped into view and the shepherd lifted knives, but the older man lifted a hand.

"Let him speak." He ordered.

"Assalamu alaikum." Altair said spreading his hands.

"Walaikum assalam, Assassin." The man greeted. There a bit of guardedness to his tone.

Altair dipped his head. "We sought shelter at your well. My daughter-in-law was injured and needed rest." It was better to play to the Bedouin's sense of duty to the fairer sex when harmed for now. "I prayed to Allah for your family and now wish to remain in your company if we may."

The sheik regarded the elder assassin as Darim and Amal joined him. Amal stood back, but the sheik clearly could see her blood stained robes. "Insha'allah she makes a full recovery." He said relaxing. "Come eat at my tent." He said nodding as his sons moved about to set it.

"You are kind, sheik." Altair said.

ZzZ

The sheik was named Waliy al Din.

He welcomed them. Assassins were allies of the sheiks for they protected the regions under their control. Waliy had learned to respect the assassins at the knee of his grandfather and had a brother whom had joined them.

Altair informed him of the betrayal and Waliy informed him his family remained loyal to the former mentor. His brother had been sent to see to his wife's dying mother in the city of Houla, south of Masyaf and so had been clear of the fighting. This was well for Altair did not want to start a blood feud with his former allies.

Bedouins had a strong sense of honor and family honor and any action that resulted in the wrongful death of a kinsman would cause a blood feud with the family of the responsibly party.

Amal had was offered a dress that Waliy had bought for his eldest daughter. The sheik commented when she tried to refuse that she needed clothing that was not torn and blood soaked. She relented and dressed in the black dress. It was lined with gold thread and was a beautiful garment.

She remained quiet and still as the three men spoke. She kept back from them. By nightfall they were eating together. The meal was of lamb, camel milk, and figs. The three ate well and then settled for the night.

Amal and Darim again shared a sleeping area. Altair was nearby sleeping in close proximity.

The next morning, the sheik, half teasingly offered his herd of goats and six camels for Amal should Altair wish to leave her with them. Her beauty stirred the old man and he only had two wives.

Altair chuckled and declined nodding to Darim who was sitting near Amal as she went to the well to draw water. "I think my son would perhaps object." He said. "They have been married for seventeen years."

"Allah alim." The man said with a shrug.

Darim smiled and helped his wife lifted the skin and fill the bucket. He leaned close to her and this time could not resist stealing a kiss from her. She looked at him startled, but allowed the kiss. She then smiled as he pulled back.

He carried the water back for her. The Bedouins prayed to Allah, facing toward Makkah after washing their hands and faces. Altair, Amal, and Darim sat watching and quiet, allowing them their prayer. Assassins were known for not being religious. The Creed was itself a religion.

The next morning Altair led his family down to Tripoli.

Tripoli was a busy port city and Darim dismounted and led his wife as she stayed on the horse. Altair had dismounted as well. Their first stop was the bazaar where they found blankets, another dress for Amal, and some other supplies they would need.

They sold the horses and bought passage to Constantinople. The Byzantine capital would be their gateway to Alamut. The roads to the home of the Persian capital were not safe. By sea was the only option.

The three were used to the desert and horses. The sea proved problematic for the young woman. Amal was constantly ill unless the sea was calm. There was little that could be done until they reached first Cyprus and then Rhodes. Cyprus was not a safe place, but they were able to walk on land as the boat resupplied. Rhodes was a shelter for great storm. It took more than a week for it to pass and during that time Amal was able to recover.

Back on the boat to Constantinople she had managed to remain in her cot and the gentle rocking seemed to be all right there. It was when she was wondering the ship. It took weeks and the girl ate little causing her to become thin and her husband and Altair to become concerned.

Once they reached Constantinople, the girl could no longer walk and had opening bleeding sores on her legs and arms. Altair and Darim treated them as well they could, but with her only moving to do her bodily functions, it was clear she was suffering. They were as well. Their gums were sore and were also lethargic, but my far Amal suffered the most.

Taking her to a tavern to rest Altair consulted a healer as what to give his daughter-in-law that would treat her. The Turkish man recognized the symptoms in Altair as well and told him to have her drink a concoction mixed with fruit juice, particularly orange or lemon. All of them should since they were suffering from a disease known as sailor's disease.

Altair returned to find Darim at her bedside pressing a cloth to her feverish brow. The girl's olive skin had a sickly yellow color to it. Altair was peeling one of the oranges he had bought from a vendor and looked at the girl. He cleared as much of the white as he could off for he knew it was bitter. Then he put some of the concoction on a slice and brought it to Amal's lips.

She opened her eyes and the pain he saw there made his heart ache. He nodded to her and she opened her parched mouth. She chewed the orange slice and when she had eaten it he gave her another. He then nodded to Darim to eat as well.

"What is it?" Darim asked.

"They call it sailor's disease." Altair said quietly as he pressed another slice to her lips before taking his own.

Darim took some of the concoction. "This is foul smelling."

Altair nodded as he continued to press the fresh fruit into the mouth of the girl. She would chew and suck the juice out. It was live giving and her body craved all he would give her. Too weak to move she allowed herself to be fed.

It took nearly two weeks for Amal to full recover. She was gaining weight with the fresh food that the tavern served, had her color back, and was able to walk on her own. Darim never left her side and watched over her like a hawk, fearing for her safety.

Altair was becoming increasingly distant, but he would speak to them when he felt it was warranted. Darim did not seem to notice since he was more concerned with his wife and her gaining her strength.

They left Constantinople when Altair bought horses and supplies. They then rode along the coast of the Black Sea and up to the mountain regions of Georgia. From there they turned inland and using the passes crossed to the Caspian Sea. Again they used the coast to head south into Persia.

Their journey took them nearly four and a half months, but finally they arrived at the outskirts of Alamut. Amal was pleased and she smiled as her husband lifted her down from their horse. She had spent so little time here, but it felt like home since her children were there taking refuge from the world. So too would Amal, Darim, and Altair.


	25. Hope's Sanctuary – 1228-1229

Hope - Chapter 25 – Hope's Sanctuary – 1228-1229

Amal stood on the battlements of Alamut castle watching over the sea.

It had taken four and a half months to reach this place they now called home. They had lived among the Persians for nearly the same amount of time. Darim and Amal had been welcomed as masters of the Order and Altair was as well, though he spent his time secluded in the library, finding solace in the books and the Apple.

A storm was coming soon. She could smell the clean scent of rain on the breeze. She could see on the horizon a dark cloud moving toward them with lightning flashing. The wind stirred her hair that she wore loose about her shoulders and back this day.

Winter would come soon, but the winters here she had heard were milder than Masyaf. Already it was warmer in the months of fall. The castle faced away from the predominate wind that brought storms. She sighed. She always liked the weather. She wrapped her cloak tighter about her body as she looked out over the sea.

She heard footsteps and turned to see Darim walking toward her. Her tall, handsome husband walked to her side a smile on his face. "Habibti." He said to her.

She smiled back and then looked back over the sea. He lifted a hand to her cheek softly. She turned to look at him. Darim had been spending much of his time wooing her and becoming part of his family again. He was working on teaching his son archery. The pair had bonded well and Amal was pleased. Altair, on the few times he had come out of his books, had been impressed by the lad's skills and had even come into the training ring and corrected his posture. It had been one day before he retreated again, but the boy took his words to heart.

"There is a storm coming." She said.

"Yes." He said looking to the sea a moment before stepping closer. "Come, my love. It is time for supper and then perhaps if the rain is not too terrible we can walk the grounds."

She nodded and leaned against his hand a moment. "I would like that." She said.

He had been so gentle with her. Once she had recovered fully from her knife wound and scurvy as the Persians had called her disease, she had gone to a more natural looking weight. Good food again agreed with her and she was no longer rail thin. Still petite and lithe he loved to watch her and had even joined her in free climbing races for fun up the castle walls to the upper towers.

They walked back together and ate together at a table in the main hall. Their Persian brothers were also eating. The Persian had welcomed them with open arms and had wanted to have the skills Altair had kept in Masyaf such as counter unarmed fighting and some swordplay moves, which Amal and Darim were eager to share.

A note came by pigeon to Mulay, the Mentor of the Persians. Though newly elected after the death of the former mentor, Abu al Khayr, Mulay had offered the Mentorship to Altair. Altair had refused saying that he only wished to remain as a guest in the fortress. Mulay respected the man enough to not push the point. The letter the pigeon carried as a notice that Abbas of the Levantine Assassins wanted traitors to the order named Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, Darim Ibn-La'Ahad, and Amal bint Altair bin La'Ahad be brought in chains to Masyaf where they were to be hung by their necks until they died from the castle's highest tower.

Mulay ripped up the letter and sent one back with the curt reply that he had not heard from the listed traitors and to perhaps look to Constantinople, Rome, or Rhodes. He had heard rumors of them seeking shelter there. It would send the hounds away for a time at least.

Amal and Darim finished eating and then went into the courtyard to walk in the gardens before the rain came. The storm was close and stirred their hair as they walked together.

Darim picked a late blooming flower and gave it to her. She smiled and smelled it. She loved the scents here and she looked up at her husband with a girlish grin on her face. He lifted a hand to her cheek again and this time followed it with his lips. He kept his hand on her cheek as he gently kissed her. His other hand snaked out and wrapped about her body to draw her closer to him.

She kissed back, her hands lifting to his powerful shoulders. He deepened the kiss letting his tongue explore her mouth and touch her own tongue. Small fireworks were going off in his body as he continued. It had been a long time since he had kissed her so. She was warm and welcoming, but she gasped, breaking the kiss as she looked up, a raindrop running down her face to her eye and down making it look like she were weeping for joy.

He felt one on his cheek and laughed. "Time for us to retire, my love."

She nodded and he took her hand. She laughed as the rain fell about them in great drops as they made it to the doors it became hail and pelted them with small pellets. They hurried inside. He smiled at her joy at being caught in the storm. They were both wet and he followed her to their rooms. While their daughters still lived with Karima in the village, Bilal lived in the barracks with the other boys whom were gaining training.

Darim closed the door as he watched his wife begin to strip her sodden clothing. He leaned against the door, locking it, and watching as his mouth grew dry. Her robes fell on the back of a chair, leaving her in her trousers boots. Her breasts were bare.

Darim moved as she pulled off her boots and went to her. He bent and kissed her again as the second boots dropped to the floor. He leaned over her as she sat on the bed and her hands were already freeing him from his own robes.

They pulled off their remaining clothing and while kissing she moved further up the bed with Darim following her. Finally he settled his body over her and began to kiss her throat and down to her breasts. So long he had dreamed of feeling her body again and he moved slowly, savoring her.

He moved lower and she gasped as she felt his breath against her lower curls. "Darim…" She reached for him and he grabbed her hands and settled them at her side as he kissed just above the thatch of hair gently.

"Hush, Habibti. The night is young and I plan to love you all of it."

She gasped as he lowered his head and licked her. The pleasure he wrought on her made her struggle, but he had pinned her. This was forbidden she had been told and yet he was doing it anyway. He continued looking up at her face as she gasped and arched against him with a muffled cry. He smiled and continued letting her ride her orgasm to the fullest before he moved up her body and held her as she recovered. Clearly she had not had pleasure in some time for she quivered as the shocks still washed over her.

He nuzzled her and her eyes opened. "Darim…what did you just…"

He ignored the question and kissed her before lifting himself and pressing his groin to hers. He entered her slowly, wanting to draw out his pleasure in her tight walls. It was clear she had not had a lover. Not that he had ever doubted her word. Her body was tight and felt nearly virgin to him. He well remembered the night he had taken her virginity from her.

He sighed and rested his head against her shoulder a moment as the muscles rippled around him. He lifted his head and looked at her. "I love you." He murmured and moved within her slowly at first and then gaining speed.

"I love you too." She gasped her hands going to his arms as he propped himself up on them as he continued to move.

After a few moments he lost himself and grunted as his own plateau was reached. She caressed him and when he collapsed on her, she caressed his hair. His head rested against her clavicle. She kissed his brow as he relaxed.

Finally he was able to move and he looked down at the woman he had spent eight months winning over once again. As much as he would have loved to have taken her before, the time was not right. "I love you so much." He whispered.

She smiled and kissed his nose as he kept them joined. "I missed you in my arms husband."

He smiled. It felt amazing to be lovers again with his wife. He sighed and moved to her side before embracing her. He pressed a kiss to her brow. "You are so beautiful, my love."

She chuckled and relaxed in his arms.

They made love several more times that night as their bodies settled into a sated restlessness that only sleep could cure. Amal fell asleep curled against her husband's chest, her back and hair pressed to him, his manhood still within her from taking her from behind, and his arms about her. He nuzzled her hair and neck before falling asleep as well.

ZzZ

Two months had passed.

It was raining. The rain was cold and wet, but still the Persians pushed their novices and initiates in the training circles. Bilal was among them training well.

Amal had been watching from a window, but then turned to walk down to the main hall. Darim was there. He held a tray of some food. He smiled seeing her. He lifted a free hand to her cheek with such tenderness Mulay, who was nearby knew that they had recently become lovers. The affection reflected in their eyes made him hurt some. He had never felt such love and he wished to. He had been slowly courting Karima, the sister-in-law of Darim, but it was slow going. She was still in mourning for her murdered husband. Not that he blamed her and he made sure not to push the point.

"Bringing food to father?" She asked her husband as she turned to join him.

"Yes." He said. "If I did not, he would starve staring at his books and the Apple."

"Darim. He is mourning your mother. Let him work through his emotions as well he can."

"He mourns too much."

"Perhaps you mourn too little." She said looking up at him from under her hood.

He paused and looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"

"He lost his son and his wife, Darim."

"I yet live." He said.

"Everyone mourns differently. She was your mother. He was your brother."

"Becoming like a living corpse while I mourn is not something I plan to do." He sighed. "You are right. Perhaps I bury it too much."

"No. Perhaps you are Darim and he is Altair."

"I have never seen him like this. This depressed state is shocking. I thought he would dive into work."

"He is working." She said. "He is writing a codex." She said.

He sighed and shook his head. "There are days I had your patience and understanding, my love."

She chuckled lightly.

They entered the library and found Altair in a corner, wrapped in his cloak, writing on a piece of parchment. It was chilled in the room. Darim moved to his father's side and set the tray down. It held some soup, bread, and tea for the Mentor.

Altair looked up at his son and daughter-in-law. He had aged. His eyes held the pain he was in over the loss of members of his family. Amal stepped forward before she could control herself and let her arm go over his shoulders, which had become thinner, and hugged him. He stiffened at the contact, but then set his quill down and sighed as he touched her arm, appreciating the gesture.

Amal seemed to understand his pain and she pressed her head to the back of his neck softly. "I love you, father." She told him. He needed to know his family still cared for him.

He nodded and looked up at his son who was watching the scene before him. "You should eat your soup before it turns cold, father." He said.

Altair nodded and moved the parchment to one side to eat the soup. Darim gathered his wife to him and they left the elder assassin to his thoughts once more. Amal walked slowly beside Darim and sighed. "This is not the Altair I know."

"My point exactly. I wish we could snap him out of it." Darim said gesturing, "But the only thing that brings him comfort are these Tomes."

She nodded and sighed.

They found their son who had been released to change his clothing and warm himself. His shoes made an odd squishing sound as he walked. Darim looked out and saw the rain had become fiercer. Bilal greeted them and then went to change with the other boys.

Amal allowed her husband to pull her to their rooms where he gently sat her down by the fire. She was deep in thought trying to find a way to bring back the old Altair she knew, loved, and respected. His depressive state made the young woman worry about his overall health and if he would go mad in his grief. As long as he remained reading and writing as an outlet, perhaps all was not lost.

Darim dropped to the floor sides her, warming his hands. He had taken on a cavalier attitude towards his father. Amal was in part disappointed in her husband's attitude towards his sire, but she knew also perhaps it was the only way for Altair to regain his mind that had clearly been broken in mourning of Maria and Sef.

Karima had lost her husband and father to the madman Abbas and she was allowing herself to be courted, at least in part, by Mulay, the mentor of the Persian Assassins. Mulay was in his fifties, but though he adhered to the Creed, he still wanted a wife and children. Altair had allowed himself to succumb to the charms of a woman and if the great master of Masyaf could marry and produce children, everyone should have the right. Mulay had chosen Karima for the reason she was beautiful, the daughter, former wife, daughter-in-law, and sister-in-law of assassins. She was well versed in the ways of the community and would have no trouble accepting the quirks that came with being the mate of an assassin. She also had children so even if Mulay proved too old to sire a child, he had others he could call his own and care for. He already had become close with Noor, the eldest daughter, in part by Amal's urging.

ZzZ

It was nearly two months later when Amal started to feel faint.

At first she passed it off as needing to eat more or perhaps the weather. The winter months here were cold and wet, far more wet than Masyaf, but less snow. Still the wind and rain had a bite to it that went through the assassin's winter clothing. Spring they had been told was often worse for the winds came from the northeast, driving from the Steppe and mountains and often bringing light snow, clouded skies, and wind, merciless wind. Summer was only a couple months away.

Amal had decided winter and spring in this land were one and the same. She was always cold here, even in the arms of her husband she often shivered, but his body heat kept her teeth from rattling at night. Strange she was colder here than the dungeons below Masyaf.

Qasim was walking down the hall and spotted Amal. She had her hand on her head.

"Dai?" He asked as she leaned against the wall.

She looked up at him. "It is nothing." She said.

The guard captain looked less than convinced as he followed her toward her rooms. She took on step onto the stairs and fell to her knees hard. She grunted and he was at her side. "Come. This is not nothing." He said.

She allowed him to wrap her arm about his broad shoulders. He half let her lean on him and half carried her to the healer wing. As they entered Lutfi looked up from his work on his desk. "What can I do for you?" He asked in Persian.

Amal looked up at him as Qasim let her sit on the end of a bed. "I feel faint. I was returning to my chambers, but Qasim brought me here." She answered. Her Persian was better than Darim's.

The healer nodded. "Fetch her husband." He said to Qasim.

Qasim nodded and left them as the man began to examine her.

ZzZ

Darim came into the healer wing at a dead run. Lutfi lifted a hand as he heard him enter. Amal was sleeping on the pallet near the fire.

Darim looked at him questioningly. He took a breath to compose himself before letting Lutfi lead him to this desk at the other side of the room. "What is it old man?" Darim asked.

Lutfi was old. He had served as the healer for nearly forty years and had been an assassin before that. He smiled kindly at the younger assassin. "Your wife is well enough, Darim." He said slowly knowing Darim's Persian was about as good as his Arabic. Lutfi was a Coptic Christian and so had not learned much Arabic. He did try and learned some words, but it was basic. Darim spoke with a Syrian accent anyway which added to Lutfi and others trying to understand him at times. Bilal's Arabic had taken on a Persian note to it as had all the children who were being raised in Alamut. Amal's accent was almost lyrical and fluid, though she was far from fluent. She knew more words than Darim, but far less than Bilal who was teaching both is parents and had resulted in speaking to them only in Persian at the request of Amal to help them learn faster.

Darim looked to his dozing wife. "Qasim said she fell over." Darim said struggling to describe faint with his limited vocabulary. Amal and Bilal were teaching him, but he had had an easier time learning Mongolian. Perhaps it was because none of the people there spoke Arabic so he could not have to be as lazy in his learning of tongue. Only the few traders on the Silk Road could understand his Arabic. Now he was trying to learn a language that looked like Arabic on paper, but was different.

"Fainted?" Lutfi asked trying to be helpful.

"Yes." Darim said.

"Yes, she did." The elder nodded. He switched to his broken Arabic. "She needs to eat more." He said.

Darim agreed. She often ate like a bird at the best of times, though she ate often to compensate for it.

"Yes." Darim said.

"She has missed her courses for the past two months. She needs rest when she needs it and fresh food, not that that is an issue here in Alamut."

Darim blinked. He had understood very little of what was spoken to him. He swallowed trying to figure out how to asked the man what he had just rattled off.

"She eats for two." The elder said bluntly.

Darim froze mid-turn to check on his wife. He turned back and looked at the old man. "She is pregnant?" He demanded in Arabic.

The man blinked. Darim realized he had spoken in dialect as he would in Masyaf with Aziz. He took a breath and put his arms together like he was cradling a babe in them. "A child in her?" He asked the pointing to Amal.

The elder then nodded. "Yes." He said.

Darim was amazed. His wife was a year from thirty and he was a year from thirty-five. The child would be thirteen years younger than Bilal. He chuckled and went to her side. He stooped and kissed her cheek and then took her hand in his.

She woke looking at him. "Darim." She said. She stifled a yawn.

He smiled and sat down beside her. His hand reached up and brushed a loose lock of hair back behind her ear in a tender gesture. His four fingered hand rested against her cheek a moment as his knuckles caressed her. "So I am told we will soon welcome a new member to the family." He said. He smiled down at her and she nodded looking at him.

"Are you pleased, husband?"

"Of course. Children are always a joy."

She nodded and sat up slowly. He helped her and smiled as he kissed her gently. He then rose and helped her to her feet. She wobbled unsteadily and he held her before scooping her into his arms with ease.

"Darim, I can walk, I am not an invalid."

"You need rest and food, my love." He said. He nodded back to the elder healer before walking from the room. He walked to their chambers and laid her on the bed.

"I feel fine. There are things I need to do."

"Such as?"

"Bring father his supper, mend one of your shirts, see what the children are up to…"

He smiled. "I will bring father his supper and check on the children. Where is the mending?"

"There by the fire." She said pointing. She rose to her feet and walked to the chair and sat down. He watched her, but once she settled he nodded.

"I shall return with food for you as well, my love."

She nodded and started to work on the shirt he had torn a hole in while instructing a class. She began to sew and sighed. She wondered how long it would be before this one quickened within her. She loved the feeling.

ZzZ

The clouds of spring were blowing away to the east.

The temperature was again warming.

The swords were clanging in the courtyard and the barks of the instructors were oddly comforting for Altair. He stood looking out the library window for a time. He had never known such heartache as he did now. Even having his father executed before his eyes was nothing compared to the sense of loss he felt at Maria and Sef's passing.

He well knew that she would likely not even have a proper burial since Abbas was a vindictive man by nature. He would torment her soul by not giving her proper rest in the crypts. She was likely at the bottom of the canyon.

Sighing he looked back at his work. The texts offered little comfort, but they did start answering questions. The first people. Who were they? There were records of them in the tomes and he needed to unlock the secrets. What was the Apple? Why did it allow him to control it? Why was Amal a Chalice and what give her the ability to heal and take life?

So many questions and so few answers.

He saw his grandson dueling against a larger boy. The boy had skills. His mother and order had taught him well while Altair was away. He had Amal's grace in battle, his father's strength, and Altair's cunning and ability to use everything in his surroundings to his advantage.

Altair smiled a little before turning back to his work. With luck the boy would be a full master assassin himself and teach others his acrobatic grace. He shook his head and went back to his chair. Around him were parchments of drawings, writings, and books stacked about.

The Persians had allowed the man to have his own private playground there and left him in peace. Few ventured into the library and fewer still had an interest in the oldest tomes so they left the former mentor in peace. It allowed him time to think and put his thoughts on paper.

And he liked it that way.


	26. A Family Divided – 1230

Hope - Chapter 26 – A Family Divided – 1230

Altair had become even more secluded.

He did not wish his family around him and refused to come to the birthday celebration of granddaughters. The girls had taken it far better than the adults had. The twins and Majida all had birthdays in the same week and as had become tradition they celebrated them together. Majida received a tea set that she had seen in a potter store. Darim was finding he could deny his children and his nieces nothing. He bought the twins matching dresses and some small hair combs made of shell. All three had showered him with kisses and thank yous.

The girls had not missed their grandfather, in fact, the twins had never met him so he was not missed. Altair had secluded himself before he could be seen by the grandchildren, in part intentionally. They reminded him too much of his younger days and time with Maria and family. The twins never asked once to see him and Karima accepted this, perhaps since he was not really a grandfather they had in context. The grandfather they knew had died.

Majida, being the brave independent sort and the eldest of the grandchildren, hardly remembered him though she had been brave and gone to see him. He had looked up from his work surprised to see a girl looking at him. He knew her instantly and was surprised he had grandchildren who could well be mothers themselves.

He had embraced her and spoken to her for a time, but he seemed to be so withdrawn even to her that she never ventured there again. Darim just shook his head. He wished his father would come around and meet the lovely children that Sef and he had created. They were such lights. Perhaps that was part of the reason he did not. Their bright natures would force him from his depressive state which had started to wear about him like a cloak.

Darim was becoming more and more frustrated by his father's lack of interest in anything other than the tomes and the Apple. His children and nieces hardly knew him if at all. He could teach them so many things if he would venture out and see them. Noor had a bright mind and was the equal of Bilal at free-running. It was also clear that like Darim and Sef, she had the vision that Altair described as Eagle vision which his fellow assassins had named. Majida was good at knife throwing and swordplay and Leena did well at a crossbow. The twins were still learning how to do basic skills, but they were willing to learn as was Karima who was learning from Mulay as much if not more than Amal and Darim.

Darim looked across the courtyard at Karima standing holding a wooden sword. Mulay was behind her correcting her form before he moved to spar with her. When she gasped and dropped the weapon he chided her softly, picking it up with his foot and kicking it up to his hand. He stood behind her and showed her the movements he wanted. She turned her face, inches from his, and smiled at him. He looked at her, his eyes searching her face.

It would seem he would only need to worry about his sister-in-laws wellbeing for a time. Though he would always feel responsible for her and in fact had been pleased when she asked if he would mind if she had suitors. He only wanted her to be happy and if that meant another man to help her raise her children, be their father, and be there for her, than he would accept it, but if she ever had need of him, she was to write to him and he would come and help her.

Mulay himself had asked permission from Darim to court her since Altair was locked away. As the only accessible male of her family, Darim became the logical choice. Darim had replied if she accepted him and she was happy the man had nothing to worry about. The second she was not happy, Darim would hunt him down like a rabid dog and kill him with his bare hands. Mulay accepted this and they shook hands. Darim had wondered then if his former sister-in-law whom he loved as a sister would make it to the next season as a widow. She almost certainly would have a lover.

Noor came to Darim and smiled. "Uncle." She said.

He smiled. She was a beautiful girl and was a light in the world. He embraced her. She stood to his chest and was beginning to have a woman's body just as Leena was. He winced. Majida was already looking like a woman and she was seventeen now. Marriageable age, but she had refused all the young assassin men who had tried to woo her. Darim smiled ruefully. None had seemed to be worthy of her and in truth none really were in his own eyes, but then as a father to a daughter, perhaps this would be true for life and he would have to make concessions when she found a mate.

For now he had other matters. He pressed a kiss to her brow. "What do you think about Mulay?"

"He is nice. He has helped me learn to fight to protect mother and my sisters."

"As any assassin would."

"You are not angry that mother wants to have another man, are you uncle?"

"No." He smiled lifting a hand to her cheek. "Seeing her smile makes my heart warm, Mawaddah." He said gently.

She nodded. "I like him. I miss father…so much and grandfather Malik, but Mulay makes it easier and he makes Momma smile."

Darim nodded. "I am sure soon he will be your second father."

"Do you really think so?"

"Look at how he looks at her." He said nodding to the pair as Mulay and Karima were laughing at a private joke.

She nodded. "Yes."

He chuckled and kissed her cheek. "I would wager your mother will be Matron by the end of summer."

She laughed and nodded before scampering off.

Darim sighed. Well one less problem. Noor openly accepted the man. The twins would also since they mimicked all their sister did. Mulay would be a good father. He was a born leader, but also had compassion and a gentleness that was often the duality of the assassin order. Though some it was not the case. Umar, Altair's father had been an assassin above all else. He had sired Altair and bedded his wife freely, but his notion of love was did not match some. He had mourned the loss of his Christian wife after she had given birth to Altair and in fact had seemed to become more driven into his work as a Master Assassin, training his son to be the same. When he was killed to appease Salāḥ ad-Dīn, Altair found a new father in the Mentor of the assassins who trained him much like his father had, but also expressed some sorts of fatherly emotions and praise. It was for this reason Altair had decided he would love his sons, greatly and equally. His grandchildren, however, were still a bit of a problem in this regard.

He walked into the fortress. He carried food up to his father. Altair was bent over a book he was reading from the light coming in the window.

"Father." The young man said.

"Darim, my son." The elder man looked up. Though his shoulders were hunched, the elder man's eyes were still bright as they watched the younger man pouring him some tea.

"Amal tells me you have found something of interest."

"Yes. I must tell Maria."

"Father…Mother is dead."

"What?" Altair looked up at him sharply. "That cannot be true."

"She died in your arms nearly two years ago, father."

"How dare you!" Altair jumped out of his seat. "I would never have allowed her to die! Where is she? Where is Maria?!"

"Father – do you not remember? She is gone." Darim took a breath fighting back his tears of anguish at his father's denial and his own pain. "She is gone!" He said closing his eyes. He lifted his hands trying to soothe his father, but it was in vain.

Altair howled in pain like a wolf of the hills. "Where is my wife?!"

"It has been two years you old fool! She is dead! Nothing can change that!" Darim growled knowing it was pointless now. The slap across his face surprised them both and they stared at each other a moment, breathing hard, both sets of eyes angry, hostile, and wanting blood.

Darim released the hilt of his sword and stepped back as Altair glared at him. "Leave me! Leave me to my work!" He growled.

"So be it father. I will leave and not return. May you find what you seek since you have no want of family." Darim hissed and turned to leave.

Darim shut the heavy door and leaned against it. He already was regretting his words spoken in anger, but he wondered if Altair felt the same. He shook with emotion for a moment, caught between wanting to apologize and just quit this place all together.

He lifted himself and walked down the hall in a daze. He made it to his rooms before his emotions overtook him. He took a shaky breath and dropped to his knees as tears welled in his eyes. After a few moments he was able to rein in his emotions somewhat before he looked like a fool.

Amal found him in a chair before the fireplace, staring at the charred bricks, deep in thought. She came to him and dropped to her knees before him, somewhat awkwardly with her swollen body. Though not far along yet, the child, as Bilal had, seemed to take more room. Perhaps it was a boy also. She looked up at his face and reached to touch his stubbled cheek.

"Darim, my love?" She asked. He stared at her a long moment before he spoke.

"We can longer stay here, my love." He said looking at her.

"Why? The Persians have been most welcoming."

"It is not them. It is my father." He said.

"What about Altair?" She asked.

"We had words, Mahbubah." He said. "He all but expelled me."

She sighed. "Before we decide to leave this place, I will speak with him."

"I am not sure that is…."

She pressed a finger to his lips. "You stay here and let your mind settle." She said. She looked up. It was nearly sundown. She rose to her feet awkwardly and he offered a hand to steady herself.

"Are you sure, Habibti?"

She pressed a kiss to his lips and then turned and walked from the room. He looked after her.

ZzZ

Amal walked toward the library all sorts of words in her mind. She opened the door and Altair's voice came to her. "If you are here to apologize, boy, save your breath."

She shook her head and came into view. He looked at her as he stood hands on his back as though he had been stretching his cramped muscles when she had come in. "So he sends his waif of a wife to speak to me."

"Father…" She said softly.

"Well come, out with it, child. I do not have all day."

She stepped forward. "You have hurt Darim. I am sure you are hurt as well by harsh words. Is there nothing that can be done to mend the hurt?" She asked looking at him her green eyes bright.

Altair regarded her and then his eyes dropped to her belly. "I see he has been mounting you again. Another grandchild on the way, I see." He sneered. "He seems to have his mind on other matters." He watched her from under his cowl.

She winced, but ignored the barb. She stepped closer. "Why are you so harsh, father?"

His eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you should run back to the whelp I sired. I am done with you." He said. "I have too much work to do to have children and grandchildren meddling in my affairs."

"The Mentor and Father I once knew would always have time for family."

"That man is dead. He died with my son, wife, and Malik. Abbas is as much to blame for the death of your mentor as he is the others." He looked at her, his eyes held a cold chill that she had never seen before. "Love is a powerful emotion and I will never again allow it to take hold of my heart and soul."

Tears came to her eyes. "You are breaking my heart father. Please." She said almost as a whisper. "If not for my sake or Darim's, at least for your grandchildren who look up to you as more legend than mortal man. There is so much you could teach them." She reached and took his hand and laid it on her stomach. The child was stirring and moved against his hand upon her.

He kept his hand there a moment and she thought perhaps she had reached him, but that was not the case. He recoiled and narrowed his eyes at her. "Leave now, girl. Do as you will. It is no longer my affair."

Amal turned away, refusing to allow this cold arrogant man to see the tears in her eyes as she fled.

He watched her go. He felt a pang of regret, but then shook his head.

Amal made it down the hall before she began to sob. She had no idea how long she was in the alcove, but it was Bilal who came into her view. He gently pulled her into his arms. "Mother…what has happened?"

She clung to him as though she were drowning as she allowed her emotions to ride the waves as they willed. "I…I…we must leave."

"Where will we go?"

"Anywhere far from Syria and Persia." She said.

After a time she was able to stand and he let her lean on him as he led her to the rooms she shared with Darim. As he opened the door, Bilal called to his sire. "Father…" He said.

Darim took one look at Amal's reddened and puffy face and was on his feet. He gathered her to him and looked at Bilal. "Gather your sisters and pack whatever you can in a pack. We leave here in the morning." He said.

"What of Auntie?" Bilal asked.

"She will be looked after. Mulay will make sure of that."

Bilal nodded and went from the room as Darim held his wife to him. He was able to control his own grief, but his wife quivered with her own. "What did he say?" He asked.

"He sent me away." She whispered. "He promised he would always keep me near him, safe, away from Templars. He promised." She began to weep again. So many years ago she had believed him. His words had been so comforting to her. He had married her to the man before her, the man she could not live without now, the man who had left and returned to her.

Darim knew his wife was already highly emotional at times due to the babe in her womb, but the rejection by Altair had made them both weep. They needed to leave and explore. Darim had wished to see Europe after hearing tales of it from several of the assassins who had traveled to the lands of the Franks and to the southern areas that were near to Greece. The Mongols would reform and Europe needed to be ready. A dual purpose would this task be for them.

It would be slow going with his wife with child, but they would manage and they would use as little boat travel as possible to ensure Amal's health. She was not a good sailor at the best of time, but after her bout of scurvy he would need to convince her go on a boat again.

ZzZ

They left two days later with horses and a small cart that carried some of their household goods in crates as well as Amal who Darim did not wish to risk harming herself or the child she carried by having her ride on horseback.

Altair looked out from the library window as they said their goodbyes to Qasim, Karima, the girls, and Mulay. He shook his head. They would return to him soon enough. He would recall them when Darim's temper had cooled. The boy unfortunately had inherited his temper from both Altair and Maria. While Maria was quick to anger and Altair slower, Altair's anger was longer lasting.

They would return.

In time.

Amal wished Karima all the best and her nieces. Mulay promised to look out for them, telling Darim that they would be safe in his care. Darim knew that to be true. He watched how the pair looked at each other and nodded. Very soon they would be married.

Mulay also spoke to Darim that he was thinking to start a guild in Alexandria. Once everything was settled in Alamut, he would see about traveling there. He had an interest in exploring the library there as well as area of Egypt that was said to be full of wonders. If he was to go, he would take his family with him. He had put his arm about Karima and they both promised to write.

Darim nodded. He lifted Amal into the wagon and she settled in the soft blankets and hay there between the crates. Darim mounted a horse as did Bilal and Majida. Leena rode on the donkey that pulled the cart along, though there was another horse for her, should she want or need to ride.

"Safety and peace!" Mulay said lifting his hand to his breast above his heart.

Darim, Amal, and Bilal all repeated the gesture back and they looked up seeing the guards, including Qasim standing, saluting them with respect. "And to you my brothers!" Amal yelled out in Persian.

Out of their sight, Altair held his own hand to his heart in a fist. "Safety and peace, my son and daughter." He said softly before he turned back to his work.

ZzZ

The crossing through Persia into Turkey was not difficult, just long. It took more than a month and a half to make it to Constantinople. Amal rode much of the time in the cart, but occasionally would ride side-saddle on the gentle donkey that pulled the cart behind her.

As they arrived in the Byzantine capital Amal was resting in the back of the cart with Majida resting against her with the child within her gently moving. Darim looked at her and realized her face was so serene that he loathed waking her.

They made it to an inn in the rich quarter. Darim then walked with the innkeeper to see their donkey was placed in a stable and their two containers within made it to their rooms. The children shared a room and Darim and Amal another.

Darim watched his wife go to the window to look out over the cityscape. She reached up and unpleated her hair. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms about her. She sighed as his hands dropped to possessively hold her belly. She leaned back against him. "Did we make the right choice, Darim?"

"Yes." He said. "One day father will come to know what he has lost, but for now. We need to find our own way."

"Where are we going?"

"We will go to Greece and then take a boat to the Italian states. I have heard it is a cradle of much knowledge. Then perhaps France and England."

She shuttered at the thought of another boat voyage, but she would go with her husband to the ends of the earth if she had to. He kissed her and led her to the bed to make love to hold, reassure, and eventually make love to her.

ZzZ

It took them another four months to travel to Greece through Macedonia and down to Delphi and Athens. From there they had taken a boat to Venice. This trip had been pleasant with calm seas. Amal was better off and with the help of the fresh product the merchant captain took on board from the small islands, she remained well fed under the watchful eye of her husband though she did have occasional bouts of sickness from the sea. The sea gave way to the calmer lagoon and they floated into the harbor of the town of canals.

The merchant who was in his forties had taken an interest in Majida who was often on deck with him learning how to guide the rudder and sails. She proved a good student and helped him when he needed to look over the side to check depth to land.

Once in Venice, Amal was nearly too large to walk for more than a few paces. Darim quickly found a man with a donkey he could buy to carry the heavily pregnant woman. It was warm that day and the lagoon was rather smelly with an odd mix of algae, human waste, and sea air. Darim lifted his wife onto the donkey and Bilal set about having their things unloaded. They found an inn just two bridges over and Darim made sure his wife was safe and secure before returning with for his children and cargo.

The merchant was named Gaius Markus Ristoro. He had told Darim that though he traveled often, he was often in Venice if they required his help. He would remain there for a few weeks. He had cast a look at Majida and Darim knew that the man would be courting his child soon.

Darim entered the inn carrying once of the containers that held what little they had. He stepped into his room and found his wife pacing the floor.

"Are you well my love?"

"Yes, just hot and uncomfortable."

He nodded.

She sighed as he set down the container. He touched her face gently. "Are you in labor?"

"No, but I wonder if this is how the carpenter's wife felt when there was no room at the inn." She said.

"There is room." He smiled.

"Yes, but I am pregnant in an inn."

"At least there isn't a manger here on the ground floor."

"This is actually, from what I understand, to be the third level. The first two are waterlogged." He said. "If I understood Gaius correctly."

She nodded.

Bilal held the other container in the room he shared with his sisters. The next day the children went exploring with Gaius as their guide around his home town. Darim watched his wife as she moved about restlessly. Then he saw the ripple on her belly. So she was in labor.

He had managed to have the hotel manager find a doctor for his wife. Though his only small amount of Italian and the man's even less Arabic, they finally managed to find what they required. The doctor arrived and gently spoke to the man in Italian.

The innkeeper looked at Darim. "Is this first baby?"

"No." Amal said. She held up her hand as a contraction hit and she screamed. Darim went to her and caressed her head.

"Baby four." Darim said.

Gaius was multilingual and had been teaching Darim. Darim's Italian was far better than his wife's but Majida was the one who had learned the most from Gaius on the trip.

The doctor nodded and the checked the woman. She was ready to push. Darim was surprised. That meant she had been in labor far longer than the hour it appeared. He was with her as she pushed, this time refusing to leave her side with foreign unknown men. The innkeeper's wife had come to help and removed her husband with a sentence that cracked like a whip.

The children returned as Amal cried out in earnest. The baby was crowning. The three came to their mother's side just as their new sibling, a robust and healthy boy, made an appearance at sunset. Majida spoke to the doctor and the innkeeper's wife.

She looked up as the baby was put on his mother's stomach and the doctor pressed down to deliver the afterbirth from her. "It's a boy." She said over and over as they looked at the still bloody head though the lungs were clear and the baby was squalling.

Darim kissed his wife and after the cord was cut that attached him to his mother; he lifted him in a warm blanket and looked at his son. The boy was larger than any of his siblings had been at birth with a thatch of thick dark hair on his head.

The doctor moved about and opened the window to allow a breeze from the sea in. He walked to Darim who was sitting beside his wife smiling as she looking up at him exhausted, but as beautiful as ever. Sweat covered her face and body, but she looked happy and her eyes were bright as she watched her husband inspecting his son. Darim was in love with the child he had sired as he had been with them all. He smiled back at the siblings who came to see their youngest sibling.

"What do you call him, daddy?" Leena asked.

"Yes, congratulations." Gaius said coming into the room after staying outside the door until he deemed it safe to enter.

"Sef Altair." Darim said looking down at the now drowsy infant.

Amal smiled up at him with tears in her eyes.

"Do you approve, my love?" He asked.

She nodded and he bent to kiss her once more as the rest of the activity in the room seemed to move at a snail's pace about them. Darim looked at his children, four now, who were all his treasures. They would remain here while Amal recovered from the birth and possibly longer. For now, this was a time for family. Something Darim made a point of being since his father had forsaken that.


	27. The Assassins United (Years of Change)

Chapter 27 – The Assassins United (Years of Change)

1233-1247

18th Day of Ramadan 1245

Father,

I do not know how many of these letters I have written thinking I would one day send them. Amal has spoken to me often that I must forgive my anger toward you especially in this time of reflection and fasting. I am beginning to see my error in my harsh words. I hope in time you will forgive me them.

It was only five years ago when we finally completed the last part of the Pillars. We traveled to Mecca for the hajj. For now we celebrate Ramadan with just the three of us. Majida, Leena, and Bilal are all married now and have children of their own. Sef is the only one who remains with us though we visit the others often in our travels.

Majida was a quick study of the Italian tongue and Gaius, our merchant friend came to me in 1235 with a marriage agreement. Majida was in full agreement and now resides in her husband's villa outside Venice. She is currently expecting their third child. Can you believe she is thirty-two? She was only seventeen when we left you in Masyaf. Now her eldest child will be ten in a few months. Mario and his sister Catherina are both curious and have loved hearing stories about you. Majida is always full of tales about what she remembers about you.

Leena became the wife of a sultan's son in 1242. The son of the Sultan of Constantinople took an interest in her on a visit when he met her in the Bazaar looking at the exotic spices from the Far East. He told his father he would cease to live if he could not spend time with her and so it was guard came to our guest house and demanded we come for an audience. The sultan made a very generous bride price being as he would do anything to see his favored son happy. Leena liked the idea as well and the pair have had a child, a daughter named Miriam. I knew this would please both you and mother, Allah bless her soul.

Bilal took up the trade as a banker in the town of Salzburg in the country known as East-land or Oesterreich by the people. Amal's German and English are far better than mine, perhaps due to the fact she speaks Persian better as well. I have found out from several of our friends and having listened to them, they are related. Bilal met the daughter of his mentor and from what I have understood, he plans to marry her later this year. More grandchildren on the way I am sure and these, if male, Insha'allah , will bear your name. This pleases me. I wanted a son to carry on your name, but I fear soon this may be lost.

Sef, who was named for you and my dear brother, has been living with us and traveling since his birth in 1230 in Venice. He now is fifteen and knows some of our arts, but seems to be more about drinking and chasing after women than anything else. That will eventually catch up to him I am sure when women start becoming pregnant by him. He has your look father, handsome as they come, but he also has your arrogance which is what caused us to part in the first place.

For now I must retire. The sun will set soon and I must break the fast with Amal and Sef. Ramadan is not easy on us, but we make due. Living in a non-Muslim world has made finding food difficult for the northerners are fond of their pigs though that is forbidden to us. We have found that in the large towns we live, the Jewish quarter will often have foods acceptable for us to eat, though Sef, and indeed all the children, are not practicing Muslim. We are not fully either for we will drink wine. Majida was married in a Catholic church. Since the religions flow in our family like water, I knew this would not be a problem with you being married to a Christian woman and being mothered by one as well. I hope your health keeps you father.

Ma'assalama .

Your son,

DarimIbn-La'Ahad

ZzZ

1247

Altair looked up.

The looming mountains that surrounded Masyaf rose about the town and castle. The town seemed to be more deserted than when he had last been there. He looked up at the fortress gate a moment. His cowl was pulled over his face as he looked at the assassins standing around. They all were milling about as though there was nothing to do. Training was not happening. What had Abbas done? Altair already knew the answer. He sighed and looked back over the village.

At 82, he was well beyond his years in terms of being a useful assassin. He well knew he would be of use as a Mentor. Fleeing Masyaf nearly two decades ago had been an error. He knew that now. The assassins had then come under the control of a madman. However, in his grief, uncertainty, and the need to be free of being outnumbered, Altair had fled with his son and daughter-in-law.

Darim and Amal had traveled to the Persian assassins in Alamut. There Altair had become fascinated by the texts, tomes, and the Apple itself, which he now carried. Amal had tried so hard to convince him to come and teach, but he had refused. The wound of Maria's passing was too near. He could not face his family well. Most of his grandchildren and Darim himself reminded him to much of his murdered spouse.

Over time, after the group had left, Altair had learned he could walk among the Persians. He also learned much from the Apple. He created an armor set, a new hidden blade that did not require the ring finger to be removed. Altair had built himself a second hidden blade he had on his right arm. The design allowed his fingers to be out of the way when it sprung out from its place.

He also had designed a new invention that used a ball of metal, some gun powder he was able to gain from the Chinese traders, and a metal barrel. Crude, it was effective. He had learned a great many things about the people who came before as well.

Alamut was a Temple of the people which explained why he had felt drawn to it. There he had found six devices within the depths. The Apple had led him straight to them within a sarcophagus deep in the bowels of the Persian Assassin home.

He had been writing a codex from the time he had killed Al Mualim due to his madness and took control of the assassins before chasing the great Khan for ten years. He sighed. He had reflected much on his life with the pages. His life, his mental states, his family, his targets, his inventions, and how the assassins needed to be to continue. The codex was nearly forty pages long and he kept the vellum in a calfskin binding. It was with him in his satchel he carried with him.

Twenty years.

He had studied the area and the Apple for nearly twenty years. He had finally decided he needed to put Abbas's rule to an end. He had summoned his son and daughter-in-law to him. Though in their fifties, he well knew Darim was promoting the cause of the assassins in Europe. Traders spoke of in whispers of the master assassin guilds in Venice, Paris, London, and elsewhere.

Darim was spreading word about the Mongol threat as well and had spent time in Constantinople. It was rumored that the ailing sultan had married his eldest son to one of the two elder daughters of Darim and Amal. If that was the case, the bloodline was secure and new generations would live well within the Byzantine capital and assassins would eventually flourish where he had failed to make a guild many years ago.

He waited.

He could only bide his time while he waited. Darim and Amal would come as soon as they could. The elder man sat down at a well on the outskirts of town. Looking all the world like a hermit he sat on a bench. The sun was warm even if the air was cooler. It was inviting and so Altair laid down on the stone and shut his eyes.

A gentle touch to his shoulder made him jump awake. He looked up and resisted the urge to threaten the man over him with his hidden blade. He shifted and sat up.

"Are you well, stranger?" The man asked.

"Yes, thank you." Altair said. He looked and noted the sun had shifted. He had been sleeping for at least two hours. He looked as the man drew up water and offered him a drink. "What is your name?"

"Mukhlis." The trader said.

"Thank you for the water."

"You are welcome."

Altair looked about. "What has happened here? This town used to have such life."

"This place has been taxed so badly, few people still live here."

"But the assassins…"

"Hide in their fortress and never are with us. They do not even protect us anymore."

"A sad turn of events."

"Indeed." The man looked at him, his eyes bright. "Were you born here?"

"Aye, but I moved away some time ago. It is amazing how things change."

"Yes."

They spoke for a time and Mukhlis found the stranger interesting at least to talk to until he heard horses. He rose to his feet. "You should go."

"Go?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

It remained unanswered as some cutthroats came on horseback. Altair sat seething a moment. Such riffraff would not have been allowed near the citizens when he was Mentor. What had Abbas done to these poor people?

Mukhlis looked up as the leader, Bayhas, jumped down from his mount The other two with him remained on their horses. "Well met Bayhas." He said softly.

"You have not paid your rent old man."

"I have paid it to your father."

"Not to me."

"I will not pay you more."

"So be it, Long Hair. Cut a finger so he remembers who his betters are."

A man jumped down. His long hair went down to past his hips. He drew a dagger as the other man came up and took a hold of the trader. Mukhlis gasped. "No…I can pay…"

"Too late now…" Bayhas said. He nodded and the other two tied rope around the trader's ankles and hung him up from a tree laughing at the man's misery as he struggled.

Altair drew himself up to his full impressive height. "Release him."

All four looked up at him.

Bayhas laughed. "Or you will do what grandfather?" He asked laughing.

Altair moved swifter than any other them had though possible and he sliced up and in the two directions, removing the third bandit's throat before he could scream in pain. He dropped gurgling as Altair faced the other two.

Long Hair and Bayhas looked at each other and then noticed as Altair drew his sword, sheathing his right hidden blade, that his left hand was missing a finger. An assassin of the Levant!

They had an agreement with Abbas not to kill the assassins, but this one had taken first blood and stood watching them, his dark eyes glittering under his hood that was low over his face. The two bandits closed and Altair soon realized his age was getting the better of him. This would have been an easy fight for him even when he left Masyaf twenty years ago, but now he was out of breath.

They cut him and he gasped feeling the sting of the cuts and feeling the loss of blood impacting him far more than he thought it should. He blinked feeling himself becoming light headed. The trader swung sensing danger for his savior as he dropped to his knees.

Altair shook his head trying to clear it. He narrowly avoided a hit from a knife as he parried it away with his sword. The trader grabbed Bayhas. The bandit was startled and Altair stabbed upwards, hitting the man in his belly. The man fell as it cut his internal organs and arteries.

Mukhlis caught the bandit leader's dagger in midair as it dropped and he reached up to cut his legs free. He blinked as he heard foot falls, but then noticed there were two others there. Two in hoods of white and gray, standing swords in hand, watching Long Hair carefully.

Mukhlis dropped, but picked himself up and stood with them before Altair. The smaller of the two, but the better armed stood watching the man. The figure was female and she spoke clearly in Arabic. "Your move, though it would be foolish to take on three of us."

Long Hair hissed and then jumped onto his horse to ride off. The female nodded and turned back to the pair. "Bandits are always cowards."

"We are in your debt, my lady." Mukhlis said.

She shook her head and lifted a hand. "There are no debts, my friend."

Her left hand was also missing a finger and with a movement of her severed digit, the blade that was extended disappeared. So she was an assassin also. She dropped down beside the hermit gently and touched his face.

"Can you hear me?" She asked softly. The man's eyes were looking up at her as though he could not quite make sense of her. "What is your name?"

Altair's eyes shifted and looked back behind her. The form of the younger man still haunted Altair's dreams from many years ago. The younger man looked exactly like… "Sef…" He gasped and then dropped backwards into the arms of the trader.

Amal looked up at Bilal behind her. Her son, now thirty, looked at his mother questioningly. "What did he say, mother?"

She shook her head and touched Altair's pale face. "Father." She whispered. She looked up at the trader. "Is there anywhere we can take him?"

"Yes, my lady. My family would be honored to care for him." He smiled. "I am Mukhlis. I am a trader."

"Amal." She said. "My son, Bilal."

He nodded. The woman looked at her son. "Get rid of these two and then come join us." She said softly.

Bilal nodded. "Of course, mother."

Amal helped the trader lift the dead weight of Altair into the trader's cart. She jumped in and began to tend his wounds as the trader led the cart to his home in the "richer" part of town. She looked about. So many things had changed here. Once in front of the home, Mukhlis helped her down and then together they managed to bring Altair to the backroom where he had a spare bed.

"Aalia! Nalia!" He called.

A middle aged woman appeared along with a teenage girl. "Yes, husband?"

"Fetch water, clothes, and…"

"Do you have honey?" Amal asked as she lifted a dagger from her belt and cut her father-in-law's pant leg from knee to thigh to look better at the wound. The one on his right was far worse than the left, but both were oozing a great deal of blood. Her hands were crimson as she worked to save him. "Thread and a sturdy needle?"

"Yes, my lady."

Amal tossed back her cowl revealing her cinnamon hair was now streaked with gray and her face was lined with wisdom and years. She still looked younger than her actual years, however. She used the hot water to dip the needle in and then she threaded it. She stitched the wound closed with due skill, but Altair had lost much of his lifeblood.

She stitched his other side as well and then bound them with honey and herbs she had in her pouches to keep them clean. The linen strips were easy to come by. She looked up. Altair's brow was warm. Not a great surprise with his blood loss, but still a fever, as weak as he was, could kill.

Amal sat back and then cleaned the blood from her hands in a bowl as she then placed a cool towel on her father's head and kept the blankets on him. She rose to her feet and turned to the family. The mistress of the home had proved invaluable.

"My thanks." She said and put her hand over her heart and bowed to them.

Mukhlis lifted a hand. "Come. You have traveled far. Share a meal with us. We do not have much, but what we have is yours, Amal."

She smiled. "You are kind. Insha'allah we will not trouble you long."

"There is not enough kindness in the world. My husband says you are to thank for saving his life today."

Amal nodded slowly.

The matron nodded. "Then you will stay with us as long as you need."

Mukhlis smiled. "My wife Aalia and daughter Nalia."

"I am Amal."

The trader lifted her hand revealing her bracer and missing finger. "You are well named, assassin. You give hope to us all."

Amal blushed.

There was a knock at the door.

Mukhlis walked to it and Amal pressed the two other women back as she lifted her hand. Her blade clicked from its sheath and she stood ready.

The trader nodded as he looked up at the tall young man before him. "Welcome, Bilal. Your mother is inside."

Amal took a breath of relief and with a flick her blade disappeared.

"Thank you."

Bilal joined his mother and looked at his grandfather. "How is he?"

She sighed. "He lives for now. All I can hope for is that stubborn spirit he has will keep him alive." She wrapped her arms about herself and moved to join the family for their evening meal.

ZzZ

Three days past.

Altair had become dangerously pale, but still he lived. Bilal, Mukhlis, Aalia, and Amal took turns watching over him for signs of him waking or becoming worse.

Mukhlis was sitting talking to him softly, knowing the older man could not hear, but he was voicing his thoughts. "If Altair was here, this never would have happened. He was a good leader, wise and strong. He left there be more trade and only taxed us enough to support the protection he gave us. He would have never let Abbas have control. There had to have been a coup or something. Altair would never have betrayed the trust we have had for a hundred years or more with the Order."

The elder man's eyes snapped opened. "Why do you speak of me?"

"You are not Abbas, old man. Rest."

"No." The elder man sat up a little and looked at the trader, his host. "I am Altair."

Mukhlis blinked. "What?"

"Yes." Amal said coming into the room. Her cowl was back again as she stepped in. She had been listening for a while at the door, restless and unable to sleep.

"I thought you were going to rest, my lady."

"Rest is harder and harder to find, my friend." She said smiling a little ruefully. She then turned her emerald eyes to Altair who was watching her. "Father. How are you?" She came to his side.

"Amal." He breathed. She nodded and took his hand, kissing the cool knuckles. He lifted his other hand and caressed her cheek. "Is it really you?"

"Yes, Father." She said, tears in her eyes and she bent and kissed his cheek softly.

"Twenty years." He whispered as she kept her face close to his. His eyes were bright and though there was the arrogance she well knew, there was also warmth. Altair realized he still had family and he was blessed. Amal had come. "Where is Darim?" He asked. He feared the answer that his son was dead and he would regret the harsh words for the rest of his life that had passed between them.

"He is Jerusalem." She said. "He sent me."

"He wanted to make sure I was not still angry." He said looking at her, searching her face. Those eyes could see the soul, but she could not look away as she sat at his side. He touched her thick braid. "You have aged, my dove."

"As have you, father." She smiled and laughed a little wiping the tears from her eyes.

Altair looked up and noted the younger man leaning against the doorway. His dark eyes looked at the man. "You have the look of Sef, but you cannot be. Who are you?"

"Bilal." The man said stepping forward. "Your grandson."

Altair nodded. "I remember. You have some skill with a blade as I remember." He said. "You have grown into a handsome young man."

"I am told I look much as you did when you were younger."

"Yes." Altair said. "Lighter skinned, but yes, you are definitely from my kin."

Mukhlis smiled. "Why did you come back to Masyaf, Mentor."

"I do not hold that title currently." He smiled. "Good you are alive Mukhlis."

"To us still loyal, you still do. There are members of the assassins who do as well." He nodded to Amal and Bilal. "Their timely arrival saved us both."

Altair nodded. "What has happened? You must tell me everything."

The trader nodded and began the tale of the past twenty years to the former mentor, the master assassin, and the mentor's grandson who all listened to the tale with interest. Amal then for her part added her own part of the tale that Alamut had been destroyed by the Mongols nearly a year ago. Altair had left to journey to Masyaf as a pilgrim and had missed the blood bath by only a few months.

Karima and Mulay were safely in Alexandria as were those whom had fled. This was not great tidings for the great Mentor either. He looked at his daughter-in-law and grandson. He hugged each and then sighed.

First things first. Returning Masyaf to what it was. Then dealing with the Mongol threat which again was on the rise. Altair was angry that Abbas had broken his covenant with the people the Assassins were sworn to protect.

ZzZ

It took the better part of a month for Altair to regain his strength.

It had been rumored for some time about the deaths of Bayhas and his kinsmen by a hidden blade. The bodies were missing. Long Hair had been beheaded by the bandit leader, Bayhas' father, Fahad, for his cowardly action of running from the fight rather than helping Bayhas.

Bilal returned to Europe bringing with him a note from Amal to her husband speaking about what she had witnessed. He had said his goodbyes and promised his grandfather he would return, but his wife would be giving birth very soon and he needed to rejoin her.

Altair smiled. His family was becoming whole again.

The town had settled, but still people would speak of the nine fingered man with a hidden blade on the streets. Who was this savior of a villager? Bilal had been able to gain some information, but being a stranger there was little more than rumor he could gain.

Altair decided it was time to confront Abbas one more time. He dressed in his hermit clothing once more with clean robes beneath, though one could hardly see them. Amal dressed as a poor woman herself, wrapping a hajab around her hair. She was as well armed as her father-in-law. Their swords were hidden in a fold of their robes. The only visible weapon was the bracers on their forearms. Altair had taught his daughter-in-law to use a second one on her right arm as well. He made it for his son, but for now, his daughter could make use of it.

For now they looked all the world like an old beggar and his daughter. Amal's eyes told the truth of her age with her hair covered, but both of them would defeat whomever they had to for Altair to reclaim the Mentorship and put an end to Abbas' tyrannical rule.

Outside the town, a small group of assassins sat around a fire. The nights were becoming cooler. They warmed their hands and looked at each other. Altair and Amal moved closer and the group paid them no notice.

One said, "They say he screams in his sleep, calling out for his father." His name was Cemal and he had been born and raised an assassin as had Teragani. Tazim had come later to the order having been sent away.

"So he cries out for his daddy. We all do at times, though I call for my mother. Abbas. What a miserable man." Teragani said.

Tazim, the youngest of the group looked at them. "It is not our place to judge."

Cemal hissed. "It certainly is. If our master has gone mad, I would like to know."

Teragani looked up. He looked up now noticing the man and woman coming forward. "Hush Cemal... Masa alk'hair." He said. The woman's face was beautiful to look upon. Not in the sort of way as the shepherd's daughters with their willowy limbs and bright eyes, but something mature and thoughtful. She had been a woman who had seen much by her eyes, but the beauty, even now, could not be denied. The old man looked haggard and his face gaunt, but his eyes were quick and watchful. The assassins did not move aggressively toward them and sat passively waiting to see what the pair did.

The old man's voice was as dry as a dead leaf. "Water." He said.

Amal spoke. "Forgive my father. He has had a long journey."

Teragani nodded. "Of course. Sit." He said offering Altair his place. Altair sat down with Amal behind him watching the group carefully.

Altair nodded to them as he dipped his head to them. "Many thanks." He drank from a gourd that Teragani gave him. They all watched him as he drank his fill.

Tazim cocked his head. "What brings you here, old man?" He asked after their guest had had his fill and passed the gourd to his daughter. Amal sipped and then handed it back. The way she watched the men and those around her, the alertness, Teragani knew was not like a normal hermit.

Altair thought a moment before he spoke. "Pity Abbas, do not mock him. He has lived as an orphan for most of his life, shamed by his family's legacy. He is desperate for power because he is _powerless_."

The woman clicked her tongue at her father and he looked up and smiled a little at her.

The small group was startled at Altair's words. Tazim looked shocked, but Teragani smiled quietly. He stole a glance at the old man's left hand resting on his knee and saw that his left hand ring finger was missing. So unless that was an extraordinary coincidence of the man was an assassin. Teragani looked up covertly at the gaunt face. There was something familiar about it…

Tazim jumped to his feet. "He is our Mentor! And unlike Al Mualim or Altair Ibn-La'Ahad , he never betrayed us!"

Teragani looked up. "Nonsense, Tazim! Altaïr was no traitor." He looked at Altair keenly. "He was driven out. Unjustly."

Tazim hissed and lifted a hand. He stormed off into the darkness. Altair looked up at Amal who was already moving to intercept the younger man she had been watching since they had arrived. "You know what to do, daughter." He said quietly in Persian and she nodded her head once.

He then looked back at Cemal and Teragani from beneath his cowl. Teragani looked up at the man again. Most of the older man's face was shaded, but the eyes glittered in the dark and could not be hidden. Cemal looked down and Teragani followed his friend's eyes to the right cuff that did not cover the man's harness for the second hidden blade he carried.

The assassin spoke tentatively. "Is it….is it you?" He asked softly. He paused and looked at Cemal. "I heard the rumors, but I did not believe them."

The old man gave the ghost of a smile. "I wonder if I might speak to Abbas myself. It has been a long time."

Teragani and Cemal looked at each other and then back. "Impossible. Abbas uses rogue Fedayeen to keep us from the castle." Cemal said.

"Fewer than half the fighters here are true Assassins." Teragani said looking about. "Altair." He said naming the former mentor.

Altair smiled and nodded slight. "But I can see that the true assassins have remained just that – _true_."

Teragani looked at him. "It has been a long time, Mentor. Where did you go?"

"I traveled. Studied. Studied deeply. Rested. Recovered from my losses, learned to live with them. In short, I did what anyone in my position would have done." He swallowed. "Though at a cost. I only recently reunited with family." He paused. "I lived among our brothers in Alamut."

"Alamut? How do they fare?"

Altair shook his head. "According to my daughter, not well. The Mongols came and destroyed their library. They are like locusts. We dealt with them once, but our only hope is to reaffirm our presence here in the Levant to let them know this land has been reclaimed. We must be strong. But perhaps we no longer should dwell within fortresses, but among the people." He looked up at the fortress with the sentry fires on it.

"Is it really you?" Cemal asked.

"Hush, you do not want to get him killed." Teragani hissed at him.

Cemal suddenly tensed. "Tazim?"

Teragani grinned then. "Tazim's bark is worse than his bite. Besides he left before we found out." He looked about.

"Do not worry on that score. My daughter will see to him."

Cemal's eyes narrowed. "She will kill him?"

"Not unless she feels the need due to betrayal." Altair said. "She is under my command as she always has been."

"She is the one Abbas refers to as the Bitch." Cemal said.

Altair looked at him sharply. "Careful, my brother, she is my daughter-in-law."

Cemal nodded. "He was always angry she escaped with you. We did not know why, but he raged about it for weeks after."

Altair hissed. "He wanted her to be his wife and bear his children, but she was already spoken for."

The pair nodded. "We have much work to do, Mentor." Teragani said.

Altair spread his hands. "So where do I begin?"

Cemal rose as did Teragani. "With us." He said.

ZzZ

Amal followed Tazim to the scrub bushes. He kicked at the rocks a little. "I almost did not know you." She said. "But you have your father's eyes." She cocked her head at him.

"Who are you?" He asked whirling on her. "Are you here to kill me?"

"A friend." She spread her hands. "I only kill those who deserve it, as you do brother." She lifted her hand and revealed her missing finger. His eyes widened a little. Only one woman had such an honor and that was the stuff of legends these days. Abbas would never allow a woman to carry a hidden blade let alone join the order. He did not trust them and their ways were always an enigma to him. "I knew your father well. You have grown much like him." She smiled sadly. "I miss Malik very much."

"I am also called Malik. My father was a hero, they tell me. I never knew him. He was killed just after my birth."

"Yes."

"My mother died on the journey to bring me to my grandparents in Acre."

"I did not know." She looked at the deep tan color of the younger man's skin. It had looked copper in the firelight. "She was a good woman." She looked up at him. "How did they tell you, your father was killed?"

"Altair murdered him for murdering his son, but that was false."

"Your father died when Altair and I could no longer protect him. He was beheaded by Abbas' lackey. Sef died at his hands as well. So did Maria and Rauf, and countless others."

He looked at her. "How do you know this?"

"I was there Malik. I am Amal bint Altair bin La'Ahad."

He looked at her. "My father left me a letter. My mother left it for me. When I joined the assassins I read it. I kept it as the only part of my parents I had. It did not make sense until now." He looked at her. "The betrayal was never Altair's was it?"

"No." she said softly.

He nodded and looked back. "That is who the old man is, is it not?"

She smiled. "Yes. Clever boy."

He walked with her back to the camp just as the others were rising to their feet. "With us." Cemal said.

Altair noted Amal rejoining them with Tazim, also known as Malik. Tazim nodded. "Yes, with us."

Amal nodded to Altair. "Malik I am sure could find those loyal to us, father. We are in need of friends."

Cemal nodded. "There are many."

"Good." Altair said rising to his feet. He rose to his feet like and old man, but once erect he looked at the three before him as his feet stayed on firm ground.

ZzZ

Teragani and Malik went to find which brothers were still loyal to their cause. By dawn they returned to the former mentor, Cemal, and Amal all standing together. The morning air was still and there was fog at their feet.

Amal stood in her robes, long and tailing like the robes Altair used to wear that moved in the soft breeze about her leggings. She had her hair now pulled back in a tight braid for action and she had found a bow and quiver of arrows. She had won competitions for it in Europe as a way to keep food on the table for her family during the lean times. Those thankfully had not been many since the name Ibn-La'Ahad had more weight than expected in some circles.

Altair still wore the clothing of a hermit, but in order to blend being an old man he would need such garments. Amal would be able to move with him along with the three loyal to them to bring the Order back into check.

Altair nodded as Teragani came up to him. "You say these men are cruel. Has anyone raised his blade against an innocent?" He asked.

Cemal nodded coming to his other elbow. "Alas, yes. Brutality seems to be their sole joy."

Altair was firm. "Then they will die, for they have compromised the Order. But those who still live by the Creed must be spared."

Teragani bowed. "You can trust in us."

Cemal and Teragani remained behind him as the others fanned out to find more friends or enemies.

"First, you must deal with the captains." Tazim said as he moved to leave.

Altair nodded. He looked at Amal. Her hood was pulled down over her face. Other than her still lithe form, she looked like a younger man. One had to look closely to see her breasts under her robes. She also wore a cloak and looked at Altair.

"These first two are mine, daughter. Stay close should I need it."

"Of course father." She said.

Altair moved up the path toward the castle. There were two captains standing near the entrance of the lower part of the fortress. Cemal and Teragani were near, he could sense them, but not see them. The light was still poor, but the captains were speaking together and warming their hands over a brazier.

"You've heard the stories going around the village?" The first said.

"About Abbas and his nightmares?" The second quarried.

"No, no. Altaïr."

"What about him?"

"People say an old Assassin saved the life of a merchant down in the valley. They say he fought with a hidden blade."

"Ah, rumors. I don't believe it."

"True or not, say nothing to Abbas. He is sick with paranoia."

Altair listened in the shadows. These men had clearly become part of Abbas' flock. Their words were proof that the doctrine Abbas now preached had more to do with the Templars than the Assassins.

Altair coughed, very gently, and moved into the pool of light.

"Who the hell are you?" The first asked.

"You make me ill just looking at you." The second one said in disgust. "Clear out, old man."

Altair did not speak, but lifted his left hand revealing his missing finger as a clear sign as to whom they were dealing with. Together the men looked at each other and then drew their blades.

"You talk far too much." Altair hissed and with the economical movements of an old man, but without the slowness, he stepped forward, catching the pair off guard, and with his twin hidden blades, lunged at their necks, killing each with quick and deadly accuracy.

He continued to the fortress entrance and found a third captain between himself and the courtyard. He managed to duck out of sight just in time before the man spotted him, but then there was a cry behind him. A novice came running toward him and Altair shook his head a little from where he stood knowing Amal was thinking to take out the young boy before he could raise an alarm. The boy was innocent and just following orders. He ran straight to the captain and whispered to him.

The captain gasped and then cried out calling for help. "Altaïr is here? In the village? Send word to the castle, quickly! Assassins! To me!"

Foot falls and a general alarm was going on in the fortress.

Cemal appeared at Altair's elbow. "We are ready Mentor. We could not move the bodies before they were discovered." He nodded behind him. "We had several more of our loyal brothers with us."

"No matter." Altair said. He then smiled back at those behind him with their hoods up. "Welcome."

He continued walking and several assassins leapt onto their brothers, killing them.

One loyal assassin bowed. "Mentor!" He put his hand over his heart and then moved to join the others.

Abbas' Captain continued to cry. "There! Kill the traitors! You are nothing without that artifact. Nothing!"

Amal was above watching and realized this man had been there when they had fled. He would die.

"You pathetic miser, stand down or die." The captain said with several men behind him looking at Altair before him.

Altair looked at him calmly. "You could have been spared, friend."

Abbas' Captain growled. "I am not your friend, old man." He rushed Altair with his sword, thinking the old man was not ready. Altair was ready, however, and dodged the blow before turning and lifting his own sword.

Cemal and Teragani rushed to meet the others and Amal leapt down from a low roof and stabbed one poor man in the back before he was even aware she was there. She turned as a man came to her and tried to strike. She parried the blow grabbing the man's hand, twisting it behind him, and kicking him away from her in a move Altair had taught her long ago. As he came again she buried her sword in his midriff.

She turned and noted the captain fell too. The battle was short, bloody, and none of the group remained. Altair smiled and then nodded to those loyal about them.

Altair took a breath. "Follow me to the castle. And spill no blood if you can help it."

Altair climbed the path to the castle with those loyal with him. He paused a moment. He looked at the side of the castle doors. He saw a younger version of himself. His wife.

"Maria. My love…" He whispered and Amal was there looking at him.

"What is it father?" She whispered.

He looked at her a moment. "Memories." He whispered back. He shook his head as though there were cobwebs in it.

There was a fourth captain there just before the courtyard, but he stepped forward looking at Altair. He then sheathed his weapon and spread his hands. "Altair, two decades have passed since we last saw you within these walls. We could use your wisdom, now more than ever."

Altair nodded. "Safety and peace on you brother."

"And to you." The captain put his hand over his heart and bowed.

Abbas was waiting from the balcony where the library stood. He had two loyal guards with him. "Kill him! Kill him now! What are you waiting for! You fools! He has bewitched you!"

Amal lifted her bow and aimed, but Altair knocked her arm fouling her aim and hitting the guard beside Abbas in his chest. She gasped and looked up angrily at Altair as he held her bow. "He is mine!" He told her.

She took a breath and nodded.

"See to securing the rest of Masyaf." He said. He lifted a hand to her face. "Be safe." He told her and pressed a kiss to her brow.

"You as well." She looked at him. "End this, father."

"You have my word." He nodded. "Take Cemal. Go!"

She nodded and gathered Teragani and Cemal to her. Tazim refused to leave Altair and the elderly assassin looked at him and nodded as he worked his way up to the library.

"Our mentor has returned!" Someone cheered.

Another came forward, but Altair disarmed him. Another and Tazim leapt and killed him with his hidden blade. They reached the library and Altair and Tazim noted that Abbas stood on the stairs with two bodyguards with pikes.

Altair looked up. "Tell your men to stand down." He barked.

Abbas shook his head. "No! I am defending Masyaf! Would you not do the same?"

Altair's face twisted. "You corrupted everything we stand for, and lost everything we gained. All of it, sacrificed on the altar of your own spite." He hissed.

Abbas' eyes narrowed. "And you, you have wasted your life staring into that Apple, dreaming of your own glory!"

"That is true, Abbas. I learned many things from the Apple. Of life and death, of the past and the future. Let me show you..." Altair said lifting his left arm. He aimed his spring loaded projectile weapon and fired.

The explosion was deafening in the confined space. Tazim gasped.

Abbas looked at Altair startled. "Is that all you have, Altair? Tricks and noise and…" He paused and looked down at his robes. A crimson stain was forming on his chest and becoming wider. He dropped to his knees and rolled down the stairs to Altair's feet.

Abbas coughed and looked up as Altair looked down at him almost in pity. "I can never forgive you Altaïr. The lies you told about my family, my father. The humiliation I suffered."

Altair sighed. "They were not lies, Abbas. I was ten years old when your father came to see me. He was in tears, begging to be forgiven for betraying my family." He knelt down beside his one-time friend turned nemesis. "Then he cut his own throat. I watched his life ebb away at my feet. I will never forget that image."

Abbas groaned. "No."

Altair continued. "But he was not a coward, Abbas. He reclaimed his honor."

Abbas coughed and this time blood came from his lips. "I hope there is another life after this one. Then I will see him, and know the truth of his final days... And when it is your time, we will find you, and then there will be no doubts."

Altair watched him die and then stood over him as his blood stained the flagstones.

It was sometime before he moved and he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked about. The sun had risen high in the sky, but the assassins had left him peace, likely at Amal's instruction.

His eyes lifted to the stranger touching him and he turned to see a face he well knew, but a generation younger. The bright laughing eyes were full of wonder and concern. The once dark hair was now peppered heavily with silver. Altair smiled and noted Amal behind at the door watching.

Altair nodded as the words did not need to be spoke and he embraced the man before him. "Welcome home. Darim."


	28. The Story Lives On – 1247-1256

Hope - Chapter 28 – The Story Lives On – 1247-1256

1247

Abbas was buried within the crypt of the assassin ancestors.

Some of the assassins had seen this as an insult to have the blood of the madman with the honored elders. However, Altair's own blood kin were there as was, as he discovered, his wife who had been buried with care according to Muslim traditions. Altair was puzzled and grateful for this measure and had sat beside her sarcophagus for a time.

When he emerged it was revealed to him that Cemal and Teragani had been part of the small group whom had found her body, broken in the canyon where Abbas had dumped her along with Swami for the crows to eat from.

They had left Swami where he lay, his face still covered in blood and his features bearing the startled expression from when Altair had killed him with his hidden blade. Maria they had broken laws and washed her body and wrapped her in a white sheet before placing her in the crypt beside Altair's mother and father, Umar.

Abbas was buried with his own father whom, though had committed suicide, had been deemed worthy due to reclaiming his honor to Altair when he had come and killed himself because of his failure under torture.

The assassins were now less in number, but once Abbas was out of the way, many had sided with Altair and proclaimed him their mentor. Those who did not and had defiantly resisted were tried for crimes against the people, and put to death by Altair himself with a sword pressed deep in their chests from their necks. The Roman way of killing a traitor was effective, though bloody.

Altair had sent those most loyal to begin working in the Levant cities of Acre, Damascus, and Jerusalem as he started to move away from Masyaf. The fortress was a symbol now of power, a power that the Mongols craved and would come after.

Tazim, also called Malik after his father remained with Altair as his bodyguard, but Cemal and Teragani had gone to Acre and Damascus respectively to begin gaining support for the assassin guild among the people once more.

Darim and Amal, bith Dais of the order were put in charge of training those whom had become lazy and untrained under Abbas' rule. Darim had brought his younger son, Sef with him. Altair had greeted his younger grandson with a warm embrace and remarked that Sef looked much like his father, though not as powerfully built. He looked less than his namesake than Bilal did, but still, the eyes and smile were his uncle he never knew.

Malik himself had asked Amal to train him and so he stood with her in the training circle. She was nearly a foot shorter and three decades older, but she still was remarkably limber and lithe when she moved. Her grace was that of an older woman, but she still was an assassin. Even her own husband had remarked these of the order no could hardly keep up with her movements.

She watched Malike like a canyon cat, pacing before him, green eyes watchful, daring him to make the first move with a wooden sword at her side. Dressed in her master robes with the hood low over her face she looked much like a shorter version of Altair.

Malik moved to strike and Amal moved out of his way grabbing his sword hand, twisting his hand so he dropped the sword, twisting his arm up behind his back, and then kicking him away from her. He turned stunned by the move. No one had ever taught him such a move. She smiled and then with her boot kicked the sword back to him.

"How did you do that Dai?" He asked.

"It is a move that our Mentor uses." She smiled. "Shall I teach you?"

"Yes, please!" He said.

They practiced for hours and by the time the sun was ready to set, the bodyguard had mastered the move and they then used their hands when then weapons failed. He countered everything she did and she countered his movements. They had drawn a crowd by this point.

Amal then ran at a post and ran up it and stood balanced on the top above Malik's head. He looked up. Another maneuver he had never encountered, but one that Altair had installed in Amal, Darim, and Sef (the elder). Free-running was basic to assassins, but Altair made the movements flawless and graceful and the master assassin stood, balanced on one foot, the other tucked beside her as she looked down. Malik laughed and shook his head.

She then took a breath and front flipped, landing behind him. He was startled and she kicked him to the ground. He rolled to face her, but her hidden blade was pressed to his neck as she knelt over him. He heard the deadly weapon come from its case. He could feel her panting. The fight had cost her, she was no longer as young as she used to be. Nearing fifty her age was starting to catch up with her.

She smiled and rose to her feet. She offered a hand. "You did well, Malik."

He took her hand as those around the ring clapped. The Dai had proven her superiority without being arrogant, just tactful. She took a breath and sighed bending to catch her breath.

"Are you well, Dai?" A voice asked.

"Yes." She said. "Just…feeling my age."

"You are making me feel old." The voice said.

She looked up to see Altair, dressed in his mentor robes of white with red. He wore his hood and watched her with his dark eyes. His face showed his age, but those eyes would always be clever until the day he died.

"Father." She said softly. Then she nodded and said louder. "Mentor."

"I am in need of your charm, my dove." He said softly.

"My charm." She laughed a little. "Are you sure you are speaking to me and not Malik? He has far more charm than I have."

"Perhaps, but I do not think he would wear a matron's dress."

She looked at her father carefully. "It has been some time since I have worn a dress in anything other than a formal occasion for court."

He stepped to her and nodded. "Pretend that is the case. I need a woman at my side to…charm the heathen bandits shall we say."

She nodded. "As you command, Mentor."

Malik looked after her. "She is an amazing fighter, Mentor. She told me she learned everything from you."

"Not everything. I never had the grace a female possesses and I will never be able to fire a bow with her accuracy."

Malik nodded as Altair walked among these training including his own grandson Sef. Sef came to him as he took a break to drink. He bowed. "Mentor."

"Ah, Sef, how are you?" Altair asked.

"Well." He looked about. The young boy blinked. "Have you seen my mother?"

"She is doing an errand for me." Altair said. "She will return shortly." He looked up. "For now…let me see what skills you have learned."

ZzZ

Amal entered the room in the master's tower she had known long ago. Now her room once more she worked on removing the layers of the robes she had on. She carefully set each down as she reached for the matron dress that had been laid out for her by someone under the direction of Altair. She touched the material a moment thinking of Maria, the last matron to wear such robes of this order.

She gasped feeling warm large hands cupping her naked breasts from behind. Though softer now, they remained firm and part of her that her husband loved to touch when they were intimate. The calloused hands she knew well and she took a breath leaning back to take in the scent that was home and family. She smiled a little before flipping her thick braid to the side before looking up at the much taller, more muscular, and black and silver haired man behind her.

"You can be most distracting, Darim." She said softly.

He chuckled. "You were lost in your own thoughts as it was." He said.

She turned to him and his hands slid to the small of her back as she lifted her arms to his shoulders. He bent his head. They kissed and what was to be a short and gentle kiss because a deep passionate one as her husband's hands went to her bottom and cupped her, lifting her against him, while he made something like a growl in his throat. They still were intimate often, though not as much as they had been in their youths or even after he had returned to her.

She pulled back looking up at his bright grey-blue eyes. "Father has need of me."

"Always." He said and let his hands move to her hair as she turned back to pull on the dress. She kept her leggings on under it and sighed as she looked at the buttons. She reached to start, but Darim batted her hands away and buttoned the mother of pearl buttons for her.

He stole a kiss from her bare neck as she pulled her hair to the side to let him finish. She smiled as he then lifted it in his hands. "Let us see to this, shall we?" He said and he brushed out the braid and then made two braids. These he let hand down her back loose until the end where he bound them together with a gold cap.

She sighed and looked in the mirror. "I look nothing like myself."

"Ah, but you are beautiful and looking like the matron. That is what father needs." He kissed her cheek. "Go to him."

She reached behind her and found his hardened length. She caressed it through his leggings playfully. "And what of you."

He narrowed his eyes and pulled her hand up and to his lips. "That will be waiting for you when you are done and you best pray I find you here, lest I take you against the battlement wall."

"That might be a nice change of pace, though the guards might be affronted."

"Affronted hell, they will watch and imagine their own cocks in you."

"They are half my age most of them."

"Ah and also half as experienced." She slapped his arm playfully. "You are terrible. Leave me be. I need my composure not thinking about your ravishing me."

He chuckled and stepped back with a bow. "Of course wife." Though his smile said differently.

ZzZ

Amal joined Altair in the library.

He took her hand, kissing the knuckles gently and looking her over. Other than the weapons she carried, she looked the part, and this day and age, if the bandit king thought they would be unarmed, he was mistaken.

There was a commotion at the gate and the Bandit King, Fahad, entered the hall with several men.

Amal tensed and Altair sensed her displeasure. The guards below them stood at attention and remained watchful. The Bandit King walked to the base of the stairs and looked up.

"Fahad. I have no wish to fight you."

"Because I outnumber you."

"No. I have enough men here and can summon more from the Levant should I have need, but why? There is no need for loss of life on either side."

Mukhlis stood nearby. He had become Altair's secretary and orderly. He smiled a little at Amal as she nodded to him as she turned her green eyes toward the men.

Fahad looked up at the woman. "Green eyes are rare here, old man." He said regarding Amal. "I have heard of such eyes. A man of mine claimed that a woman had defeated him. I killed him because I did not believe him, but here stands an assassin woman with nine fingers, just as he claimed."

Altair looked back at his daughter-in-law standing guardedly as she flanked him. "My daughter could well kill you where you stand, but on my order as with the guards, she does not." He looked at the younger more savage man. "Quit this place. You have no need of it. Return home and try to ready yourselves for the Mongol horde."

"Stories for children."

Amal stepped forward. "I have seen what these stories do to people. I would sooner cut my own throat and then let them do as they had done in Alamut." She said.

Fahad took a breath and watched as the girl flicked her two ring fingers and her hidden blades sprang forth with a scratch of metal on metal. It seemed to be deafening in the soundless hall. She stood, arms at her sides, blades extended, ready to fight, her eyes watchful.

"Perhaps we should leave." The bandit leader said. "The new leader of the assassins is stronger and will allow us to return to our lands."

"Yes, unmolested should you leave the Levant citizens without cause to complain."

Fahad nodded. "Very well. Masyaf had become desolate for us anyway. Ma'assalama Altair." He said bowing.

Altair dipped his head slightly and nodded. "Fi aman Allah." He said.

The bandits left and Amal let out the breath she had been holding. With a flick her blades retracted and she looked at her father-in-law. "One problem down, now to face the issue of winter. There are hardly any stores here."

"I intend to fill the stores and have a library built for my books beneath this very building." Altair said looking at her.

"Good. The roads will close soon. We must move fast before the weather changes."

"Aye." He said regarding her. He pressed a kiss to her brow as she looked up at him.

ZzZ

1249

A caravan stopped at the village. A woman was helped down from a camel by her escort. Two tall dark skinned men flanked her as she looked up at the fortress.

It had been a long time since she had seen Masyaf. She had been born here to a mother who had just reached her thirteenth year. Now she herself was a mother with three children. Her husband was a venture captain who traded around the great Mediterranean. Al Zahra her grandfather had called her, his firstborn grandchild, the illuminated, named for her hair that shown in the sun and bright eyes. Now in her thirties, she was coming back to the place of her birth as a mother on a mission to see the man she once admired more than any other, with the exception perhaps of her own father, but girls always adored their fathers whom cared for them and showed them great affection.

Majida had always done well at sea and even had learned to captain her own vessel under the guidance of Rynce, her husband's trusted first mate and business partner. She had delivered her first shipment to Rhodes with ease and returned rich for she had sold it above market price being able to charm the men with her smile.

She was given her own boat, an anniversary gift from her husband called the _Myst Runner_. The dower men at her side were Ethiopian, one a Christian and the other was not. They both had been pirates who served under a captain who had not expected his quarry had any skills in fighting let alone had the ability to drive the captain off and sink his vessel with a well-placed charge of gun-powder on the hull. When ignited by a swimmer, the ship sank in short order turning the tables. The pirates were not at the mercy of Gaius and his wife, Majida, assassin born merchant "queen" of the seas.

Though the captain was hung for piracy and the others awaited a similar fate, the pair of Ethiopians saw an opportunity. The woman was not without a heart and when they offered their lives to her, she accepted knowing it was now a matter of honor. The pair would never see her harmed or would die trying to save her. Gaius did not know the culture enough to know how much a man's honor meant until he had seen it in action when the pair of tattooed dark skin men saved Majida's life. From them on the pair had been charged with watching her back. Though her father and mother had taught her well enough and her free-running skills on the rigging were legendary, she was still not really an assassin.

A woman who wore and knew how to use a blade was rare, but they could still die by them, a philosophy she had learned from her parents and taught her own children. The men with her were surprised to see young women in the number in the training circles.

Majida stepped forward. Behind her Azim and Taymullah, or Tay as he normally was referred followed their mistress. They were larger than any of the Syrians both in breathe of shoulders and height and walked arms at their sides ready to grasp their Cipango crafted weapons called Katanas. These weapons made of tempered metal that made them light, but their edges were honed that they could cut a hair lengthwise. They could draw the swords and fell an enemy with a single swipe of the curved blades. Due to their travels they had both acquired the blades and had learned to use them with deadly efficiency. They also carried two kris blades for use in their off hands. These curved wicked daggers were imposing enough in their belts that many turned and walked away seeing the men walking, as if their impressive size did not matter.

Darim was the first to see her. Her hair had lightened in the sun and her face was tanned, but those bright eyes that had captivated her father from birth, he knew all too well. "Majida!" He said coming to her. He made to embrace her, but he looked at the two behind her who stood with folded arms regarding him with something between hostility and curiosity. They had heard of the Levant assassins, but had never seen one. Darim was dressed in the robes of one with his hood down revealing his ever silvering hair. His face was lined as his age forever marked him in and out.

She smiled and embraced him. "Ab!" She said. "Assalamu alaikum." She said and put her hand to her heart as he stepped back.

He smiled and kissed her brow. She stood a head shorter, but was still taller than her mother. "Walaikum assalam." He said returning the salute.

"Where is Jadd?"

"Insha'allah resting. He is no longer a young man and he forgets this." Darim said. He frowned a little and then nodded to the library. "Likely working on his Codex."

She nodded and stepped forward. Darim walked beside her. "Shall I find Sef and your mother?"

"Yes, but I wish to see grandfather first."

"As you wish, my daughter." He turned and moved to find his wife and her much younger brother.

Majida walked through the courtyard and into the library. There were guards posted within. They did not make a move to stop her until she moved toward the stairs. The assassin looked at her. "Why do you wish to disturb the master?"

"Because I would see him." He looked back at the two men who stood watching the man like an insect.

"What is the commotion?" A voice barked from above. It was not loud, but it carried the full weight as though he had shouted in the still air.

"Apologies Mentor. This woman wishes an audience."

"And so she may have it. Come my dear. My eyes are no longer what they were." The old man in white robes said. His hood was up, but she could see his bright eyes under it from where she stood. She moved and lifted a hand staying her bodyguards.

They looked at her questioningly. Tay looked at her. "Mistress, what if he kills you?"

"My grandfather?"

"He is Altair the great is he not?" Azim asked a hand on the hilt of his katana.

"Yes, but he is my grandfather. If you so much lay a finger on the assassins here without cause I swear to God I will kill you myself with his hidden blade to your stomach."

Tay's lips twitched knowing she was only half kidding. This woman was a spitfire. "Yes mistress." He said relaxing his pose as they both moved to stand on the stairs looking like dark formidable statues with their arms folded to their chests.

Majida walked up the stairs and smiled as she bowed. "Mentor."

"Is that how you greet family these days? So formal to an old man who has not seen you in more than two decades."

"Forgive me, Jadd." She said.

His lips broke into a light smile. "There is nothing to forgive Al Zahra." He stepped to her and lifted a hand to her face. "You look so much like your mother." He said. "Taller surely, but you have her face." He then chuckled lightly. "And Darim's eyes. Tell me do you have the stubbornness of them both?"

"My husband has called me a mule." She said trying to hide her smile. "Such as coming here to greet you."

"I am pretty sure you inherited that from me." He said. He bent his head forward and kissed her cheek and then sighed. "So young to be married."

"Young? I left Masyaf at seventeen, grandfather. I was six years older than my mother when she married Darim then."

"Do all grandchildren make their elders feel so ancient?" He sighed.

"I am sorry." She said, but her eyes showed she was refusing to be contrite.

He finally laughed a little. "And how many little ones have you had?"

"Three. My husband and I travel and are apart often sadly."

He scoffed. "Even the men of the caravans have their women once a month." He said looking at her. He saw her blush and he chuckled. "Forgive me. I have had to temper my thoughts one such matters with women being trained here."

"Abbas was said to refuse."

"He did not see the merit of a woman other than to satisfy lost and to father children upon. He did not see their merit in their ability to blend better than most assassins and they are always far more light footed. Your mother has four under her wing she has been waiting to pass on to the instructors."

"Is it true you are leaving Masyaf soon?"

"No, my child. I will not leave this place again, but I intend to have the next generations of assassins not be houses in castles. They need to be along the people they protect. Abbas showed the order's arrogance that we could take from the people without compensation. This has stopped, but…"

"Let me through."

"We cannot allow it."

Altair looked over and sighed. "Those men of yours. They are blocking my orderly."

"They are harmless, unless I say otherwise." She raised her voice. "Allow him to pass Tay. He is Altair's man."

"Yes, mistress." Tay said bowing and turning so the man could pass.

Mukhlis came to Altair with a stack of scrolls. Majida helped him when some fell. "Allow me."

"Thank you…" Mukhlis looked up at the girl's face. "Forgive me. I have just been speaking to another who looks remarkably similar to you."

"My mother is here then. Good."

"Your mother?"

"Amal is her mother." Altair said lifting his hand. "Mukhlis, my granddaughter, Majida of Venice."

She smiled. "A pleasure." She said smiling at the man.

"I did not know Amal and Darim had daughters. They so rarely speak of family."

The girl nodded. "In part to protect my sister and I. My brothers cannot escape the ibn La'Ahad name, but my sister now is a Sultana and in Istanbul."

Altair's eyebrows shot up a bit. "Byzantium?" He blinked. "Leena married a sultan and my son agreed to allow her to marry?"

"She wished it. Father wanted us happy. It is how I married Gaius."

Altair shook his head. "I feel ancient." He said and sighed. "Come then, my granddaughter. Tell me of your adventures at sea."

She smiled and sat down as did he and spoke of her life to him. He listened with a fascination and she realized that her best memories of him where when he spoke before the fire of this very study when she was little speaking about his adventures as an assassin in the order. Now their roles were reversed and it was oddly humbling as she spoke.

When she returned for the coast she again knew the man she had known as her grandfather, the man whom she had missed her time with. He was not a listener, not so much of a story teller, but when he spoke, it was always a time to listen. Even her bodyguards learned this and sat when he decided to speak to the novices of the order.

ZzZ

1255

Darim sat looking out over Venice.

This time of year the lagoon did not smell nearly as bad as it often did in the warmer months. Spring had much fresh water coming into the area to wash the muck away into the sea.

Amal and he had traveled from Constantinople by boat from Alexandria. They had traveled from Masyaf to Damascus, from Damascus to Acre, from Acre to Jerusalem, and from Jerusalem to Alexandria. They met with the assassin guild leaders in each town to prepare them for the Mongols and to speak about how the blending measures were occurring. They were a great success and in Alexandria, Mulay, the husband of Karima, had begun a new guild. Karima had been happy to see Amal and Darim and they stayed with the family for nearly a month resupplying and waiting for the weather to turn for the better for Amal to travel by ship.

They had been charged five years ago to spread the news of the Mongol threat. Though the Mongol horde was moving upwards into Asia Minor, the assassins were still trying to secure areas for their own before the threat became overwhelming. Their eye was not on the Levant; though it was rumored they would soon attack again. Altair wanted to be prepared. The great library Altair had was a prized possession and it was in the bowels of the fortress.

Amal had been recovering from her voyage. She was not a good sailor, but she fared better than she had before when scurvy nearly took her life. She walked out onto the balcony where her husband sat with a couple of documents. One was a letter to send to Altair of their progress. Her long robes fluttered in the light breeze.

"Amore." She said using some of her limited Italian.

He smiled and took her soft kiss as she leaned down to him. She was still beautiful and he loved her.

She wrapped her arms about his shoulders and sighed looking at the boats in the harbor. They still had friends in the English and French courts. Amal had sent letters of introduction and assassins she trusted, namely Cemal and Teragani, men who ran Bureaus in the Levant cities who had become her father-in-law's favorites. These men were eager and willing to aide Altair and promised to return as soon as they could. Their seconds were in charge in their respective cities of Damascus and Acre.

Darim's Italian was far better than Amal's though she was learning. He sighed and then rose to his feet hearing a knock at the door. Amal walked behind him as they went to the door. Darim opened it to reveal Gaius, their aging son-in-law whom was Darim's age, and two younger looking Italians. They were tanned from the son, in Italian seafaring gear.

"Darim, Amal. May I present Niccoló Polo and his brother Maffeo Polo? My friends, my father-in-law Darim Ibn-La'Ahad and my mother-in-law," He took her hand and kissed it, "Amal bint Altair bin La'Ahad."

Niccoló looked at them in wonder. Darim was now in his sixtieth year and Amal was in her mid-fifties. Both were still limber, full of life, and in their assassin robes. "UN piacere, signora. Io sono Niccolò Polo. Io non ho mai pensato mai incontrare un vero assassino della Terra Santa." He rattled off as he took Amal's hand and kissed it. She looked at him stunned. "Oh mio! Guarda la mano. Manca un dito."

She smiled and looked at him catching only about half of what he said. "Your pardon." She said slowly. "I do not speak very well in Italian. My husband is far better." She said.

"Non ci sono scuse mio amico. Mia moglie parla molto meglio l'inglese e il francese della MIA e sua Persiano è quasi perfetta. Venite allora. Conosci arabo o il Turco forse?" Darim asked fluently.

Niccoló nodded. "Chiedo scusa, ho dimenticato forse non conosci la mia lingua. Il mio arabo non è buona, ma ci proverò..."

Darim nodded. "We will speak slowly for you. If you have need of help, I will assist you. It would just make my wife more comfortable."

The explorers nodded. Maffeo smiled and kissed Amal's hand as well. "I have heard the Holy Lands are beautiful." He said slowly.

Amal nodded. "And old. Have you seen them?"

"Only in tales. We wished to see the Levant, but first we explore north into Europa." Niccoló said.

"Would you like companions?" Darim asked.

"Due maestri assassini per una scorta. Si può credere alla nostra fortuna, Maffeo?" Niccoló said smiling at his brother. He turned to Darim. "We would be honored." He dipped his head. He looked at Gaius. "My thanks, old friend. I am sure my wife and new son will be thankful for these friends. Come you must dine with us before we leave."

Amal smiled and nodded. "Very well." She said.

ZzZ

Dinner with the Polos lasted well into the night and Amal had helped Niccoló's young wife, Nicole Anna, put the baby to sleep in his cradle. He was less than a year and a healthy strong lad named Marco. Amal sang softly to him in Arabic as Nicole Anna went to fetch a lighter blanket for him. Marco was asleep by the time his mother returned and Amal was still softly singing to the babe.

Nicole Anna smiled as Amal moved out of her way, grateful to have the baby asleep. She had an odd connection to Amal, though she could not speak to her. Amal smiled and bowed her head to the woman.

Nicole Anna caught her arm gently. "Lui, per suo figlio, vi prego, assassino." She whispered.

Amal cocked her head and then patted the woman's hand. "We all will be safe, Insha'allah."

The woman bowed her head. "Grazie." She said.

Darim and Amal returned to their room, their heads a little full of the good wine Niccoló had provided and they fell into each other's arms, kissing, whispering, and nuzzling each other. Amal looked up at her husband above her and smiled tenderly as he moved above her. He then bent and kissed her again and her arms wrapped about him.

"I love you." She whispered as he moved to her neck.

"I love you." He answered near her ear.

ZzZ

1256

They spent months traveling Europe warning the monarchs of the treats of the Mongols. Darim and Amal still had contacts in the regions and this time it was Amal who speaking for them. Niccoló had a gift for language and learned quickly.

The two brothers became very interested in the pair when a man made an attempt on the King of England's life. Edward Longshanks was a brutal man, but a masterful engineer and he used great trebuchets to beat on Welsh castle walls.

He was tall for an Englishman, but he was still an inch shorter than Darim. Darim had heard a rumor from a friend the king was in danger. When brought to court he and his wife had their eyes open. Darim had seen the killer moving toward the King. With a soft bird call to his wife nearby to alert her, she turned as Darim jumped into the air and landed on the man set to kill the King.

The Welshman had been so startled he had wetted himself as Darim's hidden blade held close to his neck interrogating him. Amal stood before the King after knocking him back, her hidden blades extending as she stood arms to her sides ready to fight if necessary. She looked about and saw a man in the balcony. The man turned to run away and with a deft movement of her fingers her blades retracted and she ran straight to the wall.

The throne room erupted into chaos as she climbed us using sconces, hooks, arches, and made it to the balcony above. Darim watched her go before turning his attention to the would be killer.

Longshanks had recovered enough to bark orders and his soldiers came to assassin. Darim stood up bringing the killer with him and shoved him at the guards.

Amal saw the man moving toward the battlements and then down the stairs. She looked down and saw some hay below her. She took a breath and spread her arms and flew off into the air. Guards cried out as she flipped in midair and landed in the hay unharmed.

She climbed out and moved to the bottom of the stairs. The man thought he was still being pursued above and kept looking back. He was not expecting as he reached the bottom step and master assassin would be waiting. She crossed her blades driving them both into the man's throat. With a gasp he looked at her one second before she ripped his throat away and he dropped to the earth in a fountain of blood.

The guards joined her and she turned to walk back to the throne room. "If it please you, we would walk with you." A captain said. She looked at the men with him. All with drawn swords.

She smiled and spread her hands. "Of course."

They walked into the throne room and she was brought before the king who had cleared the throne room out except for guards, Darim, the Polos, and the killer who was now clapped in iron. Amal's hands were spread wide to show she was no threat. What they did not know and Darim did was if she turned around all the men behind her would be dead in moments. Still she had no cause.

Longshanks was standing by his throne and looked curiously at the guards. "Why have you brought me a guest?"

"No human can climb a wall, my liege. She also killed the man after leaping from the parapet to the ground without harm."

Longshanks blinked. "Superstitious dogs. She and her husband saved my life."

"She is a witch." The captain protested. She cut a man's throat away.

Amal looked at the king. "I am an assassin of the Levant. Any trained child can climb the wall as I did. I did a Leap of Faith into a hay pile to be ahead of the man. I used my hidden blades to cut his throat."

Longshanks actually laughed. "You see. Blinded by hatred you forget to see the obvious." He bowed a little. "My thanks my lady. Anything you require it is yours. Name it."

"Friendship and money are always nice." She smiled a little at him.

He chuckled. "Very well." He eyed his men. "She is more of a man than the lot of you, you sons of whores. Now, dispose of this…" He waved to the man. "Outside my marbled hall."

He quit his hall to meet with his advisors. His pride would not allow such action to go unpunished by his troublesome neighbors.

Niccoló came to Darim. "It was like watching a play on stage. How are your movements so…ethereal?"

"Skill, my friend." He looked at the younger man. "Would you like to learn?"

Niccoló blinked. "I do not think I am worthy of this honor Dai." He said spreading his hands.

"It is for that reason, we know you are." Amal said joining them. "To give yourself to the Creed is to be reborn and to be reborn is to have the humility to know where you are lacking."

"What is this Creed?"

"Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine." Darim said. "Nothing is True. Everything is Permitted."

"That seems to give you much freedom." Maffeo said.

"No. Our Creed does not command us to be free. It commands us to be wise." Darim said.

Niccoló nodded. "We will join you Darim and Amal Ibn-La'Ahad. You seem to follow a way that is dying and must stay alive for the betterment of our world."

"Allah alim." Amal said pressing her hand over her heart.

ZzZ

The journey by sea was not as rough as they expected, but once again Amal took three days to recover when they reached Acre. She was pale from the stormy seas and not being able to take in food being sea sick. However, the calm days with sun, her husband had taken her above deck and allowed her to sit and enjoy the breezes. Calm seas no longer worried her with the help of a remedy Gaius had found for her. It seemed to work.

They then took horses into the desert. Riding was far easier on Amal and she rode in the Arab saddle on the Arab horse with the grace the others had come to expect from her. Niccoló and Maffeo had been amazed just how terrible of a sailor she was in rough seas, but one horseback, she rode as though she were one with the animal, her arms resting at her side unless the animal was in full gallop, at which point she held on and bent over the neck.

As it was her hands were free now to defend them if she had need for she had acquired a bow and quiver of arrows to use. Her husband had his crossbow, his own trusty distant weapon of choice. It would be a mistake to attack them and their robes and white hoods pulled low over their faces was often warning enough to most thieves that to molest an assassin party was courting death.

They stopped for water only a few miles from Masyaf. Already there was a bitter cold note on the wind from the hills. A chill that surprised the two Venetians.

The horses drank and their riders walked about some to stretch their limbs. They would reach Masyaf by nightfall. They remounted and rode along the well beaten pathway. The sun was nearly set by the time they made it to the town and they continued to the fortress. The temperature made them shiver a little, especially the merchant explorer brothers whom had only known mild temperatures of the Middle Sea.

Young novices took their mounts and Amal smiled as she looked at the brothers. She spoke to the novices, one was female, and they nodded.

Darim, Maffeo, Niccoló, and Amal all walked into the library where Altair, now ninety-one, stood waiting. With his hood down his hair was sliver, but still intact. His gaunt face revealed his age, but his eyes were timeless as they regarded the dais whom returned and their new friends.

"Ahlan wa sahlan." He said. Though his hands were gnarled and his limbs like sticks, his mind was sharper than a tack, and his soul was stronger than vellum.

"Ahlan bekum." Answered Niccoló.

"You must be the Polo brothers. You are most welcome. Amal and Darim's letters speak of nothing else other than your journeys together."

"Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad." Niccoló said in wonder.

Darim smiled. "Niccoló and Maffeo, father." He stepped up and embraced the man. His father had lost weight, but what remained was solid. "Kaif halak, father?" He asked softly, his dancing bright eyes full of concern.

"Well enough, my son, well enough." He lifted a hand and embraced Amal who turned her face to him for a kiss. He gave it to her cheek and smiled down at her. The Chalice was becoming older as well. It troubled him for as she became older, so too, did he. It was hell.

Altair lifted his hands. "My friends, would you join me for an evening meal. I am sure there is much you wish to ask of me." He slowly moved to where he could walk up the stairs to the master tower where he lived and ate these days.

"Yes, Mentor, but where to begin." Niccoló asked as the elder man walked down the stairs slowly, using Amal's shoulder for support.

One at their level, Altair pulled himself erect. He was taller than the brothers and he smiled a little. "I have many tales. Come. Let me speak of my father and how I came to be an assassin." He patted Amal's shoulder. "It always does well to start at the very beginning when you have lived a life such as mine."

"We hope to learn much from your wisdom, Altair." Maffeo said. "Such stories of you, we have heard, and now to be speaking to you. It is like having a legend made flesh."

Altair shook his head. "You flatter me. There is time enough for long talks. The winter months allow little training other than the larger halls, but novices are forbidden from dueling because they often do not have the awareness yet to fight there."

Darim moved to change the subject while walking. "Your library, how is it progressing father?"

"Well. It is completed. I have many of my tomes there already. I will have to show you."

"Indeed." Amal nodded.

"Tomes? You write also, Mentor?" Niccoló asked.

"Yes." Altair said. He sat down at the small table. His guests and the two Dias joined him in his private rooms. He rarely ate in the main hall anymore. He smiled as the others joined and sat with him. "Now then. I was born to a Christian and a Muslim assassin here in Masyaf ninety-one years ago. I was born into this order." His voice was softer than he had been before, but everyone listened to his tale with rapt attention.

Altair spoke well into the night and the Polo brothers did not wish to leave, but the old man was starting to fall asleep in the middle of sentences and needed his rest. Darim urged his father to bed while Amal took the two guests to their rooms.

"You have no idea how much of an honor this is Amal. We cannot thank you enough." Niccoló said to her.

"It brings him pleasure to speak of such things. He is an old man with few pleasures left. Having someone appreciate his words with a new light is an honor as well." She smiled. "He will be ready to speak more when you break your fast." She bowed and she turned. "He rises early." She said as she walked away.

ZZZZzzzzzZZZZZ

Author's note: As a historian I am well aware the King of England at this time was actually Henry III, father of Edward Longshanks. I know this will be a glaring fact for some of you who know English history, but I wanted some dramatic effect because he was hated by the Welsh for his brutal invasion tactics. Edward took the crown in 1274 after serving in the Crusades. "Edward I was a tall man for his era, hence the nickname "Longshanks". He was temperamental, and this, along with his height, made him an intimidating man, and he often instilled fear in his contemporaries. Nevertheless, he held the respect of his subjects for the way he embodied the medieval ideal of kingship, as a soldier, an administrator and a man of faith."1 His father spent much of his time bucking the Magna Carta and so Edward had a court full of intrigue, a ton of enemies, and the need for conquest. He was driven and made a great character to add to this since many know him from Braveheart. His arrogance is portrayed well, but there is some question as to how well he really was shown there. At least this is where most people who are not historians or British would know him.

1 .


	29. The End of an Era – 1257

Hope - Chapter 29 – The End of an Era – 1257

February

Niccoló and Maffeo Polo were doing well at their studies. Maffeo was better at physical combat learning well from Amal and Darim who were instructing him well. Niccoló did better listening to the lessons Altair had from his own life, something that Maffeo got bored with. He clearly preferred action and was eager to have the lessons the masters had to offer.

Amal and Darim were teaching the pair lessons that many took years to learn. As the wind howled outside the walls, Darim countered a move of Maffeo, who had learned fast to use a sword, Maffeo countered Darim and freed himself, and was startled to find himself on the earth looking up at the older man, his blade at his throat as the elder man knelt beside him.

"You are quick, old man."

"And you are over-zealous for a young one." Darim said looking at him, his bright eyes watching. "Always remember the unexpected stroke, Maffeo. A man has two arms, you must keep track of them."

"Yes, Master."

"Again." Darim said rising to his feet. He offered the young man a hand.

Amal and Niccoló were balanced on beams of wood nearby. Niccoló was more adept at free-running and had followed Amal as she went about the halls, into the rafters, and around using the sconces, chandeliers, beams, and the very wall itself.

Amal made a sound and Darim pushed Maffeo back and moved backwards. Amal smiled at Niccoló before she leapt into the air with her legs tucked up. She landed on the quite startled Maffeo and carried him backwards into the sand of the main room ring as she knelt on his chest her left hidden blade to his throat. "Surroundings are just as important."

It was a good thing Maffeo was covered in thick leather armor. The masters did not wear any other than what they normally wore. She smiled and patted his cheek almost affectionately as she felt something near her. She ducked the swing of a real sword and it whistled inches from her head. She rolled and snapped up looking at Darim who was watching her.

Maffeo moved wisely out of the way as Amal drew her own sword and crouched. She rushed her husband who almost laughed and they traded blows. He caught her holding the swords crossed before her face, but she countered, by elbowing him in the gut and running up the wall to backflip behind him. He turned and parried her blow.

Niccoló jumped down, but Amal moved before he could land on her in an attempted air mock assassination. She dropped and spun knocking his legs out from under him. She chuckled and tapped him on the top of the head with the flat of her blade. She then turned to her husband who had rushed her and he held a quarter staff and he wrapped it behind her and used his body to pin her between them. Her arms to the side were useless since she could not move the upper arms. She growled and looked up at him as he smirked. He did not let her go and instead kissed her. She struggled and tried to push away, but then dropped her sword and relented.

When he pulled back he smiled at her. "You are my prisoner."

"You do not fight fair."

"Fair? Are fights we have survived truly fair?"

She laughed and looked at the brothers who were bewildered as she turned. She elbowed her husband in the chest and he grunted looking at her as she moved to speak to Polos.

June

The Polos had made amazing progress.

Altair had been moving many of the assassins to the other cities. He had been speaking with Niccoló about forming guilds in their own travels and then Polo agreed he would do so to honor his friends. Altair was clearly becoming an old man. He moved about with hesitation and would often reflect on the past.

Amal, now forty-seven, still looked younger than she truly was, but her husband had aged. He had been helping his father built the libraries, but then had gone for a week to survey reports of the Mongols in the Levant. It proved true.

Masyaf was no longer a safe place for assassins and he was working to secure his Codex pages. He often spoke to Niccoló who in turn told stories from his own manuscript to his brother. The manuscript Niccoló called "The Secret Crusade" and it was full of Altair's the great's adventures.

Amal stood on the parapet looking toward the east, the wind blowing her thick hair and long robes as she balanced. Maffeo knew she was medicating, something she had learned to calm her mind, but he coughed politely.

She looked at him. "Greetings." She said.

"What do you see Master?"

"The winds of change." She said looking to the east.

The Mongols were coming.

ZzZ

August

It was high summer.

The Mongols had arrived at least in Masyaf. What little of the assassins remained used Altair's trebuchets to hurl stones in the horde and keep them at bay away from the village, but it became clear they would not hold them back forever.

Altair had come to the courtyard's east facing palisade to look out. Two trebuchets were firing as soon as the assassins could load them. Altair took a deep breath. He was feeling his age, but the warm sun felt good on his bones.

He looked out and saw the assassins below defending the village, but some of the Mongols were making it past the line. Amal was shooting a bow she had stolen from the corpse of one of the bodies. The short bow was easier to fire at her enemies. On her first pass she had tilted to the side blocking the Mongol view of her as she rode holding the horse's side as she got close enough to mark their number. That was a feat and she returned sitting up in her saddle to her startled husband. They both well knew horses were valuable to the horde and so they would not kill one on a whim.

Darim's horse shifted nervously. Amal smiled at her husband as they looked about. "They have broken through." She said.

"Aye." He said. "Cemal!" He barked.

The assassin captain lifted his head from where he had just killed a Mongol. "Dai?"

"Hold the line!"

Cemal saluted.

Darim and Amal broke off riding into the town and up toward the fortress.

Above them the Mentor touched Niccoló's sleeve in a familiar friendly way as he stood in his white mentor clothing and cloak. His movements were preformed in the careful and precise manner of the very old, but there was nothing of the feebleness one would expect from a man of ninety-two years. Altair's skin was like paper, his eyes dark and watchful, but he stood erect as he smiled as his friend.

"Niccoló Polo, we have long held the Polo family – you and your brother here – close to our hearts, though our time together was, I know, brief enough, we have watched you mature from novices to assassins in such a short time, it is remarkable. But I have faith that this Codex, which I now place in your hands, will answer the many questions you have yet to ask."

Altair pressed a thick leather bound tome with thick vellum sheets within into the younger man's hands.

"Altair." The Venetian was startled. "This gift is…invaluable. Grazie."

Altair nodded in acknowledgement as he looked out a moment lifting a bag with his free hand. "So." He said turning again to look at the more vocal of the Polo brothers who was looking at the tome's cover, the assassin's mark was burned into the calfskin. "Where will you go next?"

"Maffeo and I will return to Constantinople for a time. We intend to establish a guild there before returning to Venice. We are long overdue and my wife and son will be missing me." He smiled a little. "Shall I send your regards to Captain Majida as well?"

"It would be appreciated." Altair said. He then cocked his head as he smiled. "Your son Marco will be eager to hear about his father's wild tales, no doubt."

"At three, he is a little young for such tales, but one day soon, indeed, he will hear them and understand my admiration for Altair the Great."

Darim and Amal interrupted their conversation as they dismounted from their horses as they came into the inner bailey. "Father!" Darim called as he rushed to where the elder man was standing. Amal was at his elbow. "A vanguard of Hulagu's Mongols have broken through! The village is threatened!"

Behind the Polos several assassins drew their weapons ready to defend their mentor if there was a need. Altair took notice, but needed to think up a plan.

_So soon_, thought Altair as he stiffened. His tone when he spoke again to Niccoló was urgent. "Niccoló – your cargo and provisions are waiting for you by the village gate. We will escort you there. Then you must make all speed to Acre to set sail."

"Thank you, Mentor."

Darim looked at his wife. "Stay here and protect them."

She nodded. She had a small cut and he wiped the small trail of blood with his finger before stealing a kiss and mounting his horse with a vault, he often still used and had learned from the people of Mongolia.

"Prepare the catapults!" Altair ordered, "And watch for my signal." He turned to the Polos. "Stay close." He commanded them.

"We must make our way to the village immediately, Father." Darim said. "I think you and Amal had better remain with Niccoló and Maffeo. I will clear a path ahead."

"Take care, my son." Altair said looking up from beneath his cowl at him. "And keep an eye on the trebuchets."

Darim smiled. "If they hit me, they will hit a dozen or Mongols at the same time."

"Darim!" Amal snapped.

"Khan Hulagu is not an enemy to be trifled with, Darim." Altair said softly, but his voice still cracked like a whip.

"We are ready for him." Darim said. He rode through the gate as it lifted for him.

Amal walked beside her father-in-law her hidden blades unsheathed, ready to do battle.

Altair turned to his guests. "Come." He said.

The group made their way slowly into the village. The route took them well clear of the main battle, but led them to the foothills that would eventually become mountains in short order.

"Will you be able to hold them?" Niccoló asked unable to keep his nervousness from his voice.

"For as long as necessary." Altair reassured him calmly. "I envy you your journey." He smiled a little. "Byzantium is a splendid city."

Niccoló smiled – though tightly, for he was more than a little aware of the danger they were in, however little mind Altair seemed to be making it at the moment. Amal was ready and her watchful gaze made him feel safer to some degree. So he played the game Altair had started. "You prefer the ancient name, I see. Have you been there?"

"Long ago. When you Venetians diverted the Frankish Crusaders to attack it instead of Jerusalem."

"Constantinople was Venice's greatest trade rival then. It was a great coup."

"It opened Europe to the east in more ways than one." Altair said.

"The Mongols will never get that far." Niccoló said, but his voice was nervous still.

Altair didn't pick him up on that. Instead the old man spoke of before. "That little conflict in 1204 prevented me from bringing the Creed to Europe."

"Well with luck – patience – we will finish what you started Mentor." Niccoló said.

"Insha'allah." Amal said behind him.

"If you have the chance, the view from the top of the Haghia Sofia is the best in the city." Altair said unruffled by Amal's words.

"How does one get to the top?" Maffeo asked blinking.

Altair smiled. "With training and patience and no fear." He paused. "I take that, when you get away from here, you won't try an overland route there. That you'll be sailing to Byzantium."

"Yes – as the saying goes. We'll ride to Latakia or Acre and get a ship there. The roads in Anatolia are fogged by memories of the Crusades."

"Ah." Altair said. "The deepest passions can be the most deadly."

"Do visit us if you are able, Altair. We will have plenty of space for you and your entourage."

Amal chuckled a soft sad laugh. Niccoló looked at her and Altair placed a hand on her shoulder. "No, but thank you. That is no country for old men, Niccoló. I will stay here as I must always now."

"Well." Niccoló said trying a different tactic. "Should you change your mind, our door is always open." He looked at Amal. "That goes for you and Darim as well, Bella signora assassino."

She blushed and put her hand to her breast over her heart as she bowed. "You are kind, brother."

Altair stood on a low cliff watching the battle below. Amal stood beside him and his hand rest on her, using her to help him balance and keep his footing. The younger woman had become accustomed to helping him and so remained still. The trebuchets had returned to the fight and found their range again. The great stones being hurled into the Mongol ranks were wreaking havoc.

A small group of Mongols had spotted them and Amal pressed her father backwards toward the wall with the Venetians. She clicked her hidden blades into place and the first unfortunate man caught her body weight and her blades to his face. She rose to her feet ready to face the others. Behind her Niccoló and Maffeo stood with their swords ready before Altair.

Amal leapt over a cliff edge. Niccoló called out, but then he watched a man walking too close to the edge be grabbed and thrown to the abyss below. The cliff was not high, but high enough to be deadly. Amal pulled herself up and gasped seeing twenty. She readied herself to die here if need be. "Stay back!" She barked, but Altair had other ideas. She was panting. She was no longer in her youth, but she would defend her father and his guests with her life.

He lifted the Apple, he had now always on his person, and as Amal dropped the first she looked up and gasped as the ghosts of assassins leapt from the rocks above and landed on the Mongols killing them instantly. She looked back at Altair as he let the Apple cool and smiled. "Or that is one way to handle it. Thank you, Father."

"Sorry to rob you of your fun, but we really need to be on our way, my child." Altair remarked dryly.

She grinned. Altair had more humor these days, but it was like the leaves at her feet, dry and merciless.

A rider was coming toward them at a gallop. I was Darim and he came to a halt as they came into the village near the stables on the side of the village away from the fighting, but there was still a sense of urgency. He dismounted and walked to where they stood. The Polos went and began to load their items in a cart. Some of the books belonged to the library, but Darim and Amal had decided they would be safe with them.

"We will rest briefly here in the village." Altair said as he looked at his son.

Darim nodded and then lightly kissed his wife's brow. He nodded behind him as two assassins came up. They would be the escort party. One was Sef the Younger. At twenty-seven now, the lad was a man and good at his craft. He had already moved his family to Acre where he would remain to teach the new assassins who would be among the people. His wife, who was with child, was an assassin also, one of the ones whom Altair had brought into the order and Amal had been training after her return to Masyaf. Sef would keep the tradition of using either gender since it was more about ability to learn and understand the Order's tenets.

"You seem to have the enemy in check." Altair said looking at the battle going on a distance away.

Darim nodded. "But for how long is the question, Father."

"I have every faith in you. After all, you are not a boy any longer." Altair said.

Amal chuckled. "He has not been a boy since sixteen, Father."

Darim's eyes narrowed at her, but he turned to his father refusing to give into the bait she gave him. "I am sixty-two years old." He said touching his silver hair. He was beardless, but his grey-blue eyes danced looking back at his wife.

"You both make me feel quite ancient." Altair remarked teasingly.

Amal could see the pallor on his cheeks and realized just how tired the old man was. He was putting on a front. She nodded to him and Darim followed her gaze and then nodded a little. He saw it too.

"Of course, we will rest and see our friends off properly." Darim said.

The small group was continuing to pack for their journey westward to the coast. Amal was saying her goodbyes to her son who embraced her, lifting her from the ground and kissing her softly on her face. "I love you, mother."

"We will come soon." She said.

He nodded.

Altair was finally able to rest and he slumped a little and leaned against Darim, who was beside him for support. "Father – are you hurt?" Darim asked, his voice full of concern.

Darim escorted his father to a bench under a tree and helped him sit before joining him. Altair took a deep breath. "Give me a moment." He said softly, panting, reluctant to give into the pain he felt. He took another deep breath and looked back up toward the castle. An aged man, he thought, was nothing but a paltry thing, like a tattered cloak upon a stick; but he had at least let his soul clap its hands and sing.

"The end of an era." He whispered as Darim looked at him, his eyes bright and watchful even as Amal walked to them, her long robes stirring in the light breeze. While Darim's hood was down, her hood was up, though her braid hung down beside her neck rather than pinned to her head for action revealing her own hair was more silver than cinnamon now. Altair looked up at her from under his own cowl and took her hand. He raised it to his lips and held it. His hands were cool and little more than skin and bone these days, but the grip was still strong as he looked from Amal to Darim.

"Father?" Amal asked curiously as he let her hand drop a moment.

He lifted a small back from his side and removed the contents. Five obsidian discs, intricately carved were within. He stacked them neatly beside him and regarded the pair again. His son and daughter-in-law, some of the last of his family line with him now. "When I was very young, I was foolish enough to believe that our Creed would bring an end to all these conflicts. If only I had possessed the humility to say to myself, I have seen enough for one life. I have done my part. Then again, there is no greater glory than fighting to find the truth." He said.

"Father?" Amal asked. "What are these discs?" She asked looking at them. She blinked and reached to touch one, but Altair stopped her taking her hand once more. "It would take too long for me to explain, my dove. I found them in Alamut. They are…" He paused looking up.

Niccoló Polo came up. "We are ready." He said.

Darim helped his father rise to his feet. Altair found his footing with an effort. Darim kept an arm on him and Amal moved to support his other side. "A last favor, Niccolò. Take these with you and guard them well. Hide them if you must." He said. His voice was soft.

Niccolò looked at him quizzically, but took the stones. "Artifacts?" He asked.

Altair nodded. "Of a kind. They are keys, each one imbued with a message."

Niccolò blinked looking at the discs as they shimmered a little. "A message for whom?" He examined one closely.

Altair shrugged. "I wish I knew."

Amal nodded to the Polos and her son. They rode away and Darim felt his father's body giving out on him.

"Come, Father." Amal coaxed. "I will make you some hot broth."

He looked at her and nodded. Darim helped him mount Darim's horse and the moved along the same way they had come earlier. Once to the castle Amal and Darim helped him to his bed in his room, slowly, one step at a time. When he became out of breath, Amal touched him and closed her eyes. His breathing became easier, though she became wearier. She tried not to let the men see it, but Darim and Altair knew what her power did to her. For now she could remain upright to help, stubborn and strong as an assassin would be. It was with no small measure of pride that the two men regarded her as she helped him sit down on the small cot he had in his room. He needed little else since most of his time was kept in his study.

Darim removed his boots and greaves and then helped his legs into the blankets. Amal propped him up and she smiled at him as she let his head rest against the pillow. She turned to leave and his hand shot out and caught her wrist.

She gasped startled. She looked down at his bright brown eyes. He squeezed her hand and she nodded to her husband who was pulling the blankets up on his father as she went to find her father-in-law some food.

"Treasure your time with her Darim. You will never know how much you miss those tender looks and that soft smile until you no longer have them."

He nodded. "Yes, father."

ZzZ

Cemal knocked at the door.

Darim looked up as Amal opened the door. Cemal entered and saluted Altair who was resting in his bed. Amal had been mending one of his shirts and smiled at the man whom Altair trusted.

"The Mongols have fallen back Mentor. They have retreated to Houla where their base is."

"Between us and Homs. They chose well." Altair remarked. He looked at Darim. "We must make ready. You must send the rest of the assassins to their cities as we discussed Darim. My library must be moved. The knowledge must…" He coughed a moment. "Be passed on."

Darim lifted a hand. "I will see it done. Cemal. With me. Amal. Would you stay with him?" He asked.

She nodded and stepped to Darim. "Of course, need you ask?"

He touched her cheek affectionately. "I do not want to belittle your talents to making you do women's work, but it is the best for now. You of all people can keep him in bed." He said lowly.

She nodded and turned to Altair as her husband and Cemal left to go round up those left and move them to the towns they would now live in.

"I must make ready for you to leave, Father." Amal said as she moved to pack a light trunk for him, collecting books from around his room that he had been working on and then his clothing and small trinkets. She left the Apple alone. She knew it was on his person.

He watched her saying nothing as she fused about like a woman. Her hood was backward and her long braid moved about her back and shoulder as she moved. She would occasionally flip it back if it dropped in her way.

Altair shook his head. He was not long for this world, but he could not tell her that. She looked so serene, a beauty and strength like Maria, but the women were wholly different. Maria had been English, a Templar, and become his wife after they had fought and learned to love each other. This girl had who was herself an artifact and fabled living treasure that was sought after by the Templars was now a tool of the Assassins and would be until she died.

She came to him and kissed his aged brow. "You should rest, Father. While there is still time."

For now he agreed with her and allowed her to fuss over him knowing Darim was a capable leader and would see everything done. There was one last thing Altair needed to do, but it would wait until he was ready, but he had to do it before the Mongols returned to Masyaf.

His time was running short.


	30. Epilogue – There is Always Hope

Hope - Chapter 30 – Epilogue – There is Always Hope

1257 – September

It was unseasonably warm for autumn.

The assassins of Masyaf had left to join their brothers and sisters in Jerusalem, Acre, Constantinople, Damascus, and even places as far away now as Venice and Rhodes.

Amal made sure the wagon was securely loaded with the trunks of books from Altair's library. She pulled a cover over it as it began to rain from a storm. Darim helped her tie down the cover before they looked at each other. He caressed a finger down her face.

He saw the pain reflected in her eyes though she tried to hide it. They were leaving their home, this time for good. Masyaf would be totally abandoned and the assassins would live among the people and fight the Templars from within the cities they would protect from harm. Masyaf was already a ghost town, the village was mostly abandoned as well having been told to flee. Darim had been born here. The bodies of his ancestors, mother, son, and brother were here in the crypt and he prayed no one would disturb their eternal rest.

The Creed had been spread to the known world and now all they could do was pray to God, Allah, or whoever was there for help and guidance. Amal smiled and pressed a kiss to his mouth before she turned to go to the library.

They had tidings from Baghdad. An assassin there who managed to escape had sent a pigeon seeking aide, but it was too late. Another came to them shortly after from Jerusalem. The Khans had turned away from Masyaf for now, but they would soon return and bring with it dead and destruction. Amal and Darim had been physically ill reading what had transpired, never thinking humans were capable of such brutality.

Together they walked from the library above ground that now had very few books within it, to the one below in the bowels of the castle. The tunnels were old, made by those who had first made the keep many years ago, but Altair had had the tunnels widened and a great vaulted room put in. Bookshelves lined the room and had once held Altair's many, many books.

All these books, with the exceptions of those that had gone with the Polos were now in the wagon. Amal and Darim knew Altair had walked down to say his goodbyes to the great room he had designed and so found him standing at the doorway, watching them approach. They came to collect him so they could be on their way. Already there were reports of Mongol scouts merely a day's ride away.

They had to leave now!

Amal and Darim had been in contact with Mulay and Karima in Alexandria. They would first travel there and then see where the seeds of fate took them. The Coptics had been welcoming of the assassins. They had provided a place for them and even joined their ranks with Mulay and some of his Persian assassins whom had survived Alamut's destruction as the Mentor and masters of their newly formed guild. The Legendary Altair could live out his days in comfort and see his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Darim and Amal could help Mulay train and protect Egypt from the invading locust horde.

Darim and Amal came to Altair who stood erect with a box in his arms.

"Father." Amal said touching her head and bowing to him with respect. He smiled at her, his hood back on his shoulders revealing his full beard of white and white snowy hair on his head.

"Baghdad has suffered heavy losses, Father." Darim said. "It is time to go."

"You say Baghdad has been sacked?" Altair asked.

"Yes, Father." Khan Hulagu's Mongols have driven through the city like a conflagration. They tried to call for help, but too late. Not many were spared. He set up a wagon wheel and made the populace file past it. Anyone whose head came higher than the wheel hub, he killed." He took a breath looking at his wife who was pale. "That was favorable to what he did to the women. The women he stripped and turned over to his army for sport. I fear there will be many war orphans born to the town after they leave. The men and youths for the most part were killed."

"Leaving only the young and malleable then." Altair said. He did not sound surprised. Altair looked at Amal. He was not about to have Amal there when these creatures returned to Masyaf. She would fight even as they tried to break her spirit as they broke her body. She would last days out of spite and anger, but he could not stand the image of her beaten beyond repair or worse gang raped until she expired from maltreatment.

"Indeed." Was all Darim could say standing beside his wife who was looking at the stone flagstones.

"Hulagu is no fool."

"He has destroyed the city. Burned all the libraries. Smashed the university. Killed the intellectuals along with the others. The city has never seen such a holocaust."

"And never will again, I pray." Altair said.

"The Khan is trying to remove the way of life of the peoples he conquers. At least the Romans would only move people to new places, not destroy them utterly to the point of non-repair unless they rebelled again. Those people gave the Mongols no cause to kill them so, even when they fought them. No one deserves such brutality."

"Amen to that." Amal said.

For a moment they lapsed into silence, watching each other.

"Have you said your goodbyes, Father?" Amal asked looking at the older man gently.

Altair looked up at her a moment. "You have seen to my books?" He asked by way of answer.

"Yes, Father. Some we sent with the Polos. The rest will go with me to Alexandria. I have already sent most of them by wagon to Tripoli for travel."

Altair nodded. "Good. Very good." He stood hunched in the doorway of his great, domed library and archive. Empty now, swept clean. Clutched to him was a small wooden ornate box. Both of the younger generation had more sense than to ask him what that was for well they knew.

It was the Apple.

"Father, I do not understand... Why did you build a library if you did not intend to keep your books-" Darim asked looking into the darkened room beyond lit only by torchlight.

Altair waved an interrupting hand. "Darim, you know very well I have long outlived my time on this earth." He coughed lightly. "I must soon leave on a journey that requires no baggage at all."

Amal took a step forward. "But you are to come with us. Meet Sef's children and grandchildren. Their step father has told them stories. You could…" She looked at him and his eyes were sad as they looked at her.

He lifted a hand to her cheek. "Amal, my dear little dove. Always you want what is best for everyone else, but this time I cannot indulge you."

"But…" She looked at him her green eyes almost desperate.

He looked away and looked up at Darim's face. "You have answered your own question, my son. What Hulagu has done in Baghdad, he will do here. We drove them off once and they found easier prey, but they will return, and when they do, Masyaf must be empty." He took a breath. "You both should go."

Darim looked at his father carefully and in sudden understanding. "I see. This is not a library at all. It is a vault."

Amal looked between them. "What?!" She gasped. She used the same incredulous tone that Maria had done so many years ago when he had offered Abbas the Apple. The pair were remarkably similar though neither would have admitted it and he certainly would never had told them. So alike and different. He loved both with his whole heart. Two of the three women he had loved. He loved Karima as well, but she never grew close to him as Amal had. Amal had regarded him as teacher, mentor, and most of all a father figure she had craved. Now he could see his words were distressing her.

Darim noticed that his father hugged the small box even more tightly to his chest as he spoke as though protecting it. He looked at his father, the great Altair, so fragile now as to seem to be made of parchment, but, inside, tough as vellum.

His father looked away a moment even as he nodded gravely. "It must stay hidden, Darim. Far from eager hands. At least until it has passed on the secrets it contains."

Darim's eyebrows knit as he looked at his father. He took a step closer. "What secret?"

Altair smiled a little. "Nevermind. Go, son. Go be with your family, and live well." He nodded to Amal who was nearly in tears beside them.

Darim stepped forward, embracing his father tightly, but not so tight as to hurt or break him. "All that is good in me began with you, father." He sighed and stepped back looking at his father, his emotions high.

Altair looked at Amal whose tears were free flowing now. "Oh my sweet little dove. No tears." He whispered. He spread his arm and she moved into his embrace like a lost child in need of comfort. He pressed a kiss to her hair. "Remember who and what you are, my child. Live well. Remember the love you brought to this family. We will never forget it."

"I will never forget you, Father. You were the only father I have known." She sobbed looking up at him, tears running down her cheeks. He pressed a kiss to her brow once more and then set her back from him.

Darim looped his arm about her shoulders to hold her still as they watched. He held her close as though the two of them could stay afloat on the tide of their emotions. Darim did not weep, yet. She was sobbing as the older man stepped into the library.

Once within, he braced himself, straining to pull a large lever just inside, up by the lintel. At last it moved and, having completed its arc, clicked into place. Slowly, a green stone door rose from the floor to close the opening.

Amal turned in her husband's embrace unable to watch as she cried into her husband's robes as he held her to him battling his own emotions. Father and son watched wordlessly as the door came up. Darim tried desperately to keep his self-control if not for his own sake, for that of his wife, but finally he could not restrain his own tears as the door enveloped his father in his living tomb.

Darim closed his eyes as his tears fell in earnest, dropping into his sobbing wife's hair as the door stopped moving, forever separating him from his beloved sire. He held his wife close as they both grieved for the loss of Altair.

"Ab…" Whimpered Amal. "Come back…Please…" She whispered.

Darim looked up. The stone doorway looked to be a blank surface with curious circular grooves cut into it and a saying at the top written in Arabic with the Assassin symbol in the middle of the saying. It was a message to all who came there here after. He read it and felt his heart clench. إتق دم البرئ - لآ شيء مطلق بل الكل ممكن - إختبئ وسط الأزحام - إختبئ وسط الأزحام نحن من إتمنك - لأ تخن من إتمنك. "Revere the blood of the innocent - Nothing is absolute, everything is possible. Hide in the midst of the crowds - Hide in the midst of the crowds. We are the ones who have entrusted you - Do not betray our trust."

They would always remember this was an assassin home.

ZzZ

It took hours before Darim was able to pull Amal from the place. She had dropped to her knees and was sobbing so hard her body was trembling like a leaf caught in a hurricane. He dared not move her even as he beat his own breast in grief at his own loss.

Finally she quieted and he was able to pull her to her feet and leave the place. He half-dragged, half- carried her to their horses. There were three. Darim tied the third to his saddle and then lifted his wife into her own saddle. His hand lingered on her thigh as he looked up, searching her face. Her face was no emotionless and pale with her eyes puffy from the tears she had shed.

He lifted his hand to her cheek. "I love you." He told her.

She looked down and then closed her eyes a moment. There was love in her eyes when they opened again, but also sadness. A sadness that would not soon go away.

The rain pelleted them and they drew their cloaks around their bodies to keep it off, lost in their own thoughts. Amal did not say a word as Darim watched her look back at their home. She took a breath and looked down. The rain ran down her cheeks, mixing with her tears, as though Allah himself were weeping.

ZzZ

Altair heard the door close and took a breath.

He dosed the torches as he walked into his library.

Words from his past came to his mind as he walked slowly. Bookshelves were everywhere about him, empty and cold.

He took a breath and sat down at a small desk and began to write. He wrote several pages before he finally caught his breath enough to move again.

Then he noticed he was not fully alone. The ghosts of the past were with him. The forms of Maria, Al Mualim, Darim, and Amal all stood nearby. Darim, Amal, and Maria were so much younger than when he had left them. Amal looked almost child-like. Maria was her lithe Templar body. Darim, his eldest son was full of life and merry eyes.

Al Mualim's voice was first._ "In much wisdom, is much grief. And he that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow." _

Maria was next._ "What does it tell you? What do you see?"_

Altair answered her._ "Strange visions and messages. Of ones who came before, of their rise, and their fall..."_

Maria seemed upset by that._ "But what happens to us, Altaïr? To our family! What does the Apple say?"_

Altair spoke again as though thinking to himself._ "Who were the ones who came before? What brought them here? How long ago?"_

Maria again spoke her voice angry._ "Get rid of that thing!"_

Altair answered her sharply._ "This is my duty, Maria!" _

The soft lyric voice of Amal then came to him. Her small form came and knelt by his own younger ghost as the others all had before. _"The Mentor and Father I once knew would always have time for family."_

Altair spoke harshly to her and her face looked as though he had slapped her. He had not noticed before and he felt a little sickened by how he had treated her, but it was in the past. A time of regret._ "That man is dead. He died with my son, wife, and Malik. Abbas is as much to blame for the death of your mentor as he is the others. Love is a powerful emotion and I will never again allow it to take hold of my heart and soul."_

Tears came to her eyes. Those eyes were so young and full of hope and life and he had nearly broken her sending her away. He could tell watching now. It made his heart ache. _"You are breaking my heart father. Please." _She said almost as a whisper.

There was a pause._ "Maria? Where... where are you? Where is she?!" _

Darim spoke almost harshly._ "Gone, father. You do not remember? She's gone!" _

Altair then walked to a small alcove and set the Apple upon the altar. "_If you are asked, say that I sent the Apple away. Tell them I sent it to Cyprus, or Cipango, or that I dropped it into the sea. Tell them anything to keep men away from this place. This Apple must not be found, not until the time is right." _

He stepped back with a sigh.

Those had been his last words to Darim the night before as they spoke before the fire allowing the exhausted Amal to sleep. She had been running around for two days trying to make Altair well. Her fretting had cost her. Altair shook his head sadly. The little dove always looked after others before herself. The girl was so beautiful inside and out. He had not appreciated it until after he had returned to Masyaf after beating Abbas.

He pressed the wall near the altar and two doors shut revealing the Assassin symbol.

He took a breath.

It was finished.

He walked back to his chair in the center of the room. He took a breath. He was tired, sore, and his body ached with something he had never felt before. It was a longing almost for peace.

Drawing in a deep breath he lifted another disc, like those he had given to the Polos to keep. He looked out over the stillness and then looked down at the disc. He would imprint the memory of what had just happened, where the Apple was, and how to find it onto the memory seal as the old ones had called them.

Once done he took a slow deep breath and let it go.

Death came more quietly and sooner than he expected.

He was at peace.

ZzZ

It took more than a week to arrive in Tripoli.

They would first sail to Alexandria and would sail with the high tide near noon the next morning. Darim found an inn near the harbor. Amal sat before the fire for it had become cooler as the sun set. Darim over saw the books being loaded onto the _Myst Runner_.

He smiled seeing Majida looking over the manifests. Her hair was graying, though long in a thick braid down her back. She wore clothing of a sailor. Darim suspected dresses became tedious for a boat captain on the seas. It amused Darim that she had spectacles perched on her nose to read the fine written words on the page. With her were her ever vigilant bodyguards with their skin like ebony.

She saw him and laughed coming to him. "Father!"

He embraced her and looked up at the men who actually were watching behind her. They were not as dower and they did not move when he held her close.

"I did not expect Gaius to send you. He said he would send the best, but I thought he would perhaps come himself."

"He is working for the Pope these days moving goods from Rome to Constantinople. Which is well enough when I can travel with him and see Leena." She looked up at him. "How is mother?"

"Well enough. In shock."

Majida nodded. "Noor will be giving birth soon. It will give her pleasure to have family near I am sure."

He nodded. "I must find food for us. We have been on the road and I fear your mother has not eaten well. I must take care of her. I leave this in your capable hands, daughter." He touched her cheek affectionately.

"Go, father. The cargo will be well looked after."

He shook his head. Majida herself was now in her forties, though she looked in her middle thirties thanks to her mother's complexion. However, motherhood, sea-life, and the sun was aging her more quickly than her mother had.

Darim walked back into the room holding fruit, salt dried meats, cheeses, unleavened bread, and he had even found some fresh goat's milk and tea for them. She looked up at he sliced a fig with his knife. Her eyes were puffy. She had been weeping again.

"Habibti, my love. I miss him too. Come eat. He would not want you to starve yourself." He said gently.

She nodded slowly reaching for some of the flatbread that was cooked in a hot brick oven by the vendor. The smell was enticing enough for her. She nibbled on it.

After they had finished their meal, they settled into the bed. He curled his body around hers as she lay on her side. He kissed her neck gently trying to put her at ease. She sighed and allowed him his advance and as they kissed deeply, she left herself enjoy the feelings, sensations, and raw love the man had for her.

ZzZ

At high noon the _Myst Runner_ set sail. Darim and Amal were given the captain's quarters at Majida's insistence and she took the cabin next to them. Her first mate Rynce took a hammock with the men. He was not about to argue with the captain especially when she was yielding her cabin to her aging parents.

They had been at sea for three days, always within sight of the land as they traveled south. Amal was a poor sailor, but this day, it was nearly dead calm with only a soft breeze that stirred the sails and robes of those on board.

She went to the prow and looked down at the calm water. Below them were dolphins playing in the bow wave. She laughed and pointed at them to her husband.

Darim came and stood behind her. He kissed affectionately, loving her smile.

It gave him hope for the future.

ZzZ

Ezio de Auditore da Firenze stood in amidships watching his new wife Sofia as she stood on the prow of the boat which was carrying them back to Rome.

They had been to Masyaf, used the keys to open the library that revealed a strange truth about the past and present. Altair, Sef the Elder, Darim, Amal, and Maria were all part of his family, though Amal never was in his direct line. He learned he descended from Sef the Elder and his daughter, Noor, whose child, born in Alexandra, became part of the whole new generation of assassins of the line.

Altair's Codex pages had told him many things. Some of the pages had taken him longer to find. The whole bottom of the map at his uncle's villa had been missing. Five pages. He had found them along with the second Apple in the room, but he had left it after hearing the revelations from Jupiter and the ones who came before.

He left the Apple, hiding it behind the wall once more, but took the missing Codex pages. All of them had to do with the Chalice and his thoughts and knowledge on this subject. Why had he left this out of the original codex? Was this something he was meant to find?

He touched the papers. They had told him the Assassins were always attracted to Chalices with a need to guard them from Templars who would use them for things other than allowing them to just live out their lives. Most did not the descended from anything holy and lived their days, mortal and ignorant, passing the genes to the next generation. However, there were a few known.

He wondered how one found a chalice. According to Altair the great the Apples would confirm it.

They were artifacts like the Apples of Eden and the other pieces of Eden. They had an ability to heal or kill with the power of the Light like the Apples made them relics. He wondered if had met any in his travels. It was likely.

He looked at his wife's bouncing red hair as she laughed merely. She was pregnant with their first child and they had only been married for a very short time. He loved everything about her, but he could not say what the odd connection between them was. He loved her with his whole heart.

He walked to her and she looked at him as he embraced her, his hand going to hold her at her slight swollen belly. He kissed her cheek as they sailed in the gentle breeze that took them toward home after their great adventure. They had stopped in Constantinople to check on the bookstore. It was more popular than ever and Sofia had been content to allow the assassin woman care for it for her.

"I wonder if this is how Majida felt sailing? It is so freeing." Sofia said.

"Majida?"

"She was my ancestor. She had her own boat. She was not a Venetian, but she sailed like one. Her husband, Gaius, taught her well."

Ezio nodded in amusement. "She sounds like a lovely woman."

"She held off pirates and she even was said to glow when she was angry."

"Glowed?"

"Family story. Likely not true, given actual history. I mean, why would a woman glow when she was angry?"

"Why indeed?" Ezio said suddenly looking down at his spouse startled. "Where was Majida born? It sounds Middle Eastern."

"We think somewhere in the Levant, but the family history is a little hard to track. Baptism, death, and birth records are not easy to find in the Holy Land at the best of times. Now it is nearly impossible with the conflicts."

"The unending conflicts." Ezio agreed. He stepped away to look at the blue water a moment. So clear here.

He shook his head. Sofia was not a chalice? Was she?

Passed from the female line. Ezio's mind whirled a moment.

Amal bint Altair bin La'Ahad had been the last one recorded in history, though others had been hinted at in the history books. One such woman was Joan of Arc, a French woman who was on her way to becoming a saint. The Secret Crusade, the Tome written by Niccoló Polo mentioned the girl, but reflected how he life reflected through Altair and his tales to the Polos. It had been clear Altair had not told them much in order to protect his family and perhaps even in death to protect her from relic seekers.

Altair had spoken about her powers in the lost five pages of the codex. Pages he meant for the person who opened the library to find. Pages meant for Ezio, a well-seasoned and matured master assassin.

Altair had had two sons. The elder Darim had founded several guilds in Europe and lived out his days in the court of King Edward I, whom he and his wife had befriended while visiting. They had died there and were buried with honors by the King. Darim had died at 87 as an aged scholar of the court whom used his knowledge to train the English in the teachings of the Creed, something King Edward had even found of interest. Amal, his wife had died a year later, seemingly of a broken heart at 82.

They both had known much joy and sorrow in their lives and they lived on through their children and their children's children. Ezio had learned much about this side of the family from the "lost codex" pages he had found. Darim had carried the family name when his younger brother had been killed. These pages were a far more intimate look into the family that Ezio had expected from Altair. Perhaps in his elder years he had become reflective as much of the Codex was written before had been chased of of Masyaf to Alamut.

Amal, Altair's daughter-in-law he had rescued and married off at a young age. She had been the mother of four children, two boys and two girls named…

He froze.

He whirled back to look at his wife as she stood, hand on her belly, looking up at the sea birds. He then shook his head. Why tell her? He had learned a great many things he could not share with her. He would merely add that to the list.

It did one thing, however.

It gave him hope for his future.


End file.
